


More Than Emeralds

by DocMurphy, Entropyrose



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Will Graham, Canon-Typical Violence, Food Kink, Food Sex, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23130271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DocMurphy/pseuds/DocMurphy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/pseuds/Entropyrose
Summary: A Collab Fic starring Thief!Will Graham and Curator!Hannibal Lecter AU. Feels, sexy times, and a little comedy mixed in!Will Graham truly thought it would be easy pickings when he stumbled upon the unassuming museum with its lackluster security features. Little did he know that a certain someone was waiting in the wings, ready to pounce at just the right opportunity....
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 27
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Proceed with caution! This fic contains graphic rape and later chapters will include some sex with food. Yes, food. You read that right. No need to adjust your glasses.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Getting inside was easy enough. Will knew his way around a code scrambler, and this place was less guarded than perhaps it should have been. That's what made it the perfect target: no infrared motion sensors or live security to worry about. A blank card inserted in the keypad made the lock dislodge. He slipped in through the side door, catching a gloved hand over the bell at the top before it had a chance to chime. 

Will had done his research. He knew the museum's layout and he knew exactly where he was headed. He made his way past the Tang Dynasty armory and the Monet paintings; they may have all been worth a fortune, but they're also not exactly the easiest thing to carry out. The second corridor was lit softly with preservative bulbs hung over 14th century works of art. In the center was a glass case with glittery treasures inside. Will was after one in particular, but he's not stingy: he'd gladly take whatever happened to be hanging out with his main prize. 

But something was wrong. As he loomed down over the case, he could plainly make out the form of the black velvet sheet that should have held the centuries-old emerald amulet that he’d come there for. It was gone. 

Suddenly, something sharp and cold slammed into the back of his skull, sending the room spinning. A tall figure stood over Will as his world cut to black. 

_ The smell of must and wine _

_ The constant drip drip drip of water.  _

Will's eyes fluttered open. His head was pounding. In his mouth was the acrid tinge of blood. A man in a strange, polymer suit faded into his vision, arms crossed, a clear look of disdain written on his otherwise handsome face. 

He tried to bring his hands up and found only useless resistance instead. His wrists had been fastened to the chair with zip ties. They were so tight they had cut off circulation and began biting into his skin. Winding around his chest and torso were heavy chains that pinned him into place.

Dangling on the verge of panic and trying desperately not to go over the edge, Will helplessly choked out "W-where am I?" 

__________________________________________________________________________

  
  


Hannibal loved break-ins. The person robbing him was sure to have an alibi, and therefore would not be traced back to the museum. It was like a little gift from the universe, and so Hannibal kept late hours, and sloppy security. 

He was having a tedious evening. A few exhibits, including a 14th century emerald amulet, had to be taken down to be transported to another museum rather before he was ready to part with them, and between carefully moving the priceless artefacts and updating the necessary paperwork he had somewhat lost his sense of humour. The sound of  _ another  _ in the museum caused him to perk up. Perhaps this Monday evening wasn’t a total loss.

Within a moment he was in his murder suit and stalking silently through the museum. He caught up with the intruder among the 14th century exhibits - illuminated by the light from a high window was a man, working quickly and quietly to access a display case.

_ You. _

He’d seen, and smelled, the man before. He had noticed him, plaid-clad and sullen looking, apparently engrossed in Greek pottery, or rather as it turned out, how to steal Greek pottery. However it wasn’t his interest in erotic wine jugs which had drawn Hannibals attention - it was the single moment of eye contact that they had shared before the man, such a beautiful man, had turned away. In that moment Hannibal had felt exposed in a way that was alien, terrifying, and that he had immediately wanted more of. He’d had to have a sharp word with himself, and kill three people, to get over it.

And now here he was, his blue eyed stranger, robbing him. Funny old world. Hannibal wasn’t one to rush a good thing, and so, once he’d knocked the man out, instead of taking him down into the kill room in the basement of the museum, he loaded the unconscious body into his Bentley. This one was coming home.

Later, exhibits packed and ready for transport, and a glass of Chassange-Montrachet resting on the side, Hannibal went through the unconscious strangers pockets. No ID. Of course not, the owner of such piercing blue eyes was unlikely to be an idiot. Just as his irritation at not knowing the man’s name became undeniable, his light-fingered hostage began to surface.

“Wh...where am I?”

“It would hardly do to tell you that.” Hannibal said quietly. Even so, his voice seemed to echo faintly, the sound expanding to fill the space and settle in the part of Will’s mind that registered terror. “Why don’t we start with why you were trying to rob me?”

“I’m sorry,” Will almost shouted, aware of how pathetic it sounded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm, I...fuck.” He yanked on the chains, as if that would do any good.

“You’ve been terribly rude. What’s to be done about that?”

_________________________________________________________________________

  
  


"I--I didn't know…" Will's voice trailed off, pissed at himself for how pathetic he sounded, a pounding headache and his half-conscious state making it damn near impossible to concoct a worthy excuse. His mouth was drier than a desert. Praying that his big blue eyes would garner some sympathy, Will put on his best "helpless" face. Eyebrows spooning upward, eyelashes batting, pouty lips parted slightly he murmured "I'm so thirsty. Do...do you have some water or something…?"

The golden-haired man was unnervingly cool, his silver eyes laying Will bare with a simple glance. One arm poised behind his back, he gave his captive a simple nod. "Of course. I already took the liberty of pouring you a glass. I assume, with your obvious taste for fine art, you aren't opposed to wine?" 

Will knew he was taking a chance by accepting it but he gave the stranger a grateful smile as the glass was brought to his lips. It was strong-smelling---Will was no connoisseur but this wasn't the cheap stuff---and it had a bite to it. Despite the taste, Will drained nearly half the glass, not realizing until just that moment how parched he truly was. From the corner of his eye, he spotted his wallet. Suddenly, he was pulled back into the reality of his precarious predicament. He pulled away, perhaps a bit too sharply, and murmured "Thank you" beneath his breath. 

The man had followed his stare. He stood unnervingly close to Will, that sickening grin ever-widening. A gloved hand tilted Will's chin until the overhead light poured into his vision, making his eyes water. "You didn't include personal identification in your effects," the stranger stated simply. "I assume this isn't your first time being...discovered?" 

Will couldn't help himself from returning the smile, his eyes glittering mischievously. It was bothering the man that he didn't have anything over on Will--not yet, anyway--and Will loved a good game. 

The blonde man let him go with a shove, his expression unchanging as he turned back to the table with the wine glass in hand. "So, my little Thief In The Night...what shall we call you?" 

Making a half-hearted attempt at a joke, Will suggested "Hopefully a cab ride home?"

The stranger in the plastic suit didn't take the bait. Instead, he turned to pluck an object from the metal rolling table just feet away. Turning it this way and that, he inspected it in the dim light of the room. "Now what do you suppose a fitting punishment would be for someone who tries to pilfer such priceless valuables?" 

Suddenly, Will found his throat more dry than ever, his heart thudding against his ribcage as he locked eyes on the instrument. "P-please," he squeaked out. "Wh-whatever you want, I-I'll give it to you. What do y-you want? Huh? You want an apology? You want money?" 

"Bribery? Already? Now, that's an awfully bold assumption to be making to a total stranger, don't you think?" 

The man hovered closer, baring down over Will as the flash of his blade buried in and down Will's arm. As the pain coursed through him, a scream was torn from his chest. He strained against his binds, metal scraping metal as a tear escapes to roll down his cheek. 

"Please!!!" 

His captor only hummed his approval, lifting the knife to lick a stripe of fresh blood. "Bravo, my bird. You taste positively delectable when you're terrified." 

"No, no, no…." Will was no longer concerned about appearances. He had no hope of escape besides begging for a shred of this man's mercy, if he could find it. "Please, I'll do anything. Just...only, let me go. Anything but this! Please!" 

Something caught the man's interest, because he paused mid-lick to raise an intrigued eyebrow. 

With bated breath, chest heaving, tears glittering beneath his fluttering eyelashes, Will froze.

With a sickening smile, his captor reiterated "....anything?”

____________________________________________________________________________

  
  


Well, this was interesting. 

Hannibal wasn’t a rapist, but his opinions on what constituted consent, and enjoyment, were flexible. He also didn’t need to be told twice. If the lovely little songbird would do anything to get out, then there was a bargain to be struck. Or not. Hannibal was a man of his word, but words are open to interpretation; one didn’t have to openly tell a lie to be deceptive.

“Yes, anything”, the dark haired man almost shouted at him. The blood from the wound on his arm was still flowing slowly, carving out red stream beds around his muscles before dripping to the floor. It was beautiful, and it had to hurt. The thought went straight to his cock.

Hannibal was somewhat giddy at the amount of possibilities presented to him. The man was still breathing heavily, and the air was thick with pain, fear, desperation and also a delicate top note of hope. The poor lamb thought there might still be a way out. Bless. 

He put down the knife.

“Alright little bird. I will describe the “anything”, and you will tell me if that’s acceptable. Once you have agreed, I will not ask you again. How does that sound?”

“And once it’s over you’ll let me know?”

“When it’s over I’ll let you go.” Go. Two letters, so many meanings. The dark haired man wasn’t thinking clearly, how could he be, because he just nodded, rather than asking for clarification. If Hannibal were in his position, he would say that “go” ought to mean delivered home alive and with only temporary damage. But then, people were rarely as clever as Hannibal. 

“I’ll need more than a nod, songbird”.

“Will, my name is Will. And yes ok, tell me what you want.”

Hannibal smiled as much as he ever did, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. He dipped his head to the wound in Will’s arm one more time, coating his tongue in a layer of warm copper and eliciting a delicious gasp from Will.

“Mother of Christ,” muttered Will.

“What was that?”

“I should have fucking known.”

“Known what?”

“Never mind. Look I really just want to leave. I’m sorry I robbed you-

“Tried to rob me.”

“Tried to rob you. I am sorry. Truly. I’ll never do it again. And I don’t care about whatever shit it is you get up to down here at the weekend, I won’t tell the cops, I won’t tell anyone, I just want to get home to my dogs, ok? So tell me what you want, and please don’t eat me.”

“Eat you how?”

Will wailed desperately and yanked on the chains a few more times. Hannibal was having the most wonderful time. Will’s remark about being eaten was exhilarating; in a way it felt wonderful to be called out, seen, even if it was by a thief in chains. 

“I like to eat, Will.”

“No shit.” The traces of hope had gone, and Will’s despair had made him rude. No matter. 

“Please hear me out before resorting to profanity. I would like to eat you, Will, in a way that I think you would also enjoy.”

“Oh really.”

“Yes. I am going to perform annilingus on you until you reach orgasm. Then you are going to help me achieve my own orgasm. Then I will let you go.” The terms were broad; apart from three key details he hadn’t really told Will anything, but the words ‘let you go’ were still enough for the younger man.

“Ok fine. Fine. Whatever. Let’s get this over with.” Will still appeared to be on the verge of tears as he stared up at the ceiling, so he didn’t get to see Hannibal pick up the knife again, and tuck it away in his sleeve.

In a matter of minutes, Hannibal had Will flat on his stomach, bent over his century-old Victorian tiger oak slaughterhouse table. He secured either of Will’s legs at the ankles and fed the heavy chain around his wrists to a wrought iron eye hook at the other end of the table. The little thief let out various groans of discomfort and displeasure, but soon Hannibal’s delectable meal was displayed, stretched to perfection and writhing beneath his masterful touch. He moved behind Will and wasted no time pulling down his trousers, admiring the firm musculature and indulging in a momentary whimsy about what might have been if they’d met under different circumstances. He nudged Will’s legs apart and took his position, inhaling the scent of musk and fear. Will jumped when he put his hands on each cheek and massaged sensuously before pulling them apart. 

Will’s hole twitched delightfully at the first touch of his tongue, accompanied by a cry which could have been something akin to ‘what is my fucking life’. Hannibal slapped him lightly, which shut him up, and then got back to the task at hand, which made him loud again but in a different way. 

He started by licking broad stripes from the perineum up to the top of Will’s crack, taking in the different textures of his skin. He repeated this several times until he heard Will’s breath start to change and become shallower, punctuated by little groans as his body began to wake up to the different sensations being inflicted upon it. Each time Will became slightly louder and more desperate sounding, as if this much sensation was no longer enough. He pressed a hand to his own erection, enjoying the friction, before returning it to Will’s arse cheek as he pushed his tongue inside. Will made a long, keening noise and pushed backwards, seeking more contact. Hannibal could hear the blood rushing through his veins - Will tasted divine, tight and hot around his tongue. He reached around and was ecstatic to find that the other man was hard and dripping. Wrapping a hand around his erection he began to stroke in time with his thrusting tongue, delighting in the feel of Will’s cock and the needy noises that came unbidden from his mouth, until Will went rigid and he felt the hot spill of his release.

Panting, he sat back, placing a hand almost fondly on the back of Will’s thigh.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, there are some things I need to get from upstairs.” 

____________________________________________________________________________

  
  


He couldn’t be serious. 

Will watched as his captor calmly sauntered up the cellar steps, flicking on a dim light over the room as he went. Still dazed from being so thoroughly eaten out, his eyebrows twitched upward as he pulled on the chains. Getting into a more comfortable position was impossible. He was stretched to his limit, spread out over his own drying spunk, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Will slammed his fists down, making as much of a racket as he could. “You said you’d let me go!,” he shrieked, more indignant at this point than afraid. 

“Patience, dove,” came the distant reply. 

He couldn’t  _ possibly  _ just be  _ leaving  _ him here!!!! 

Will knew he had little time to act. If he was going to try and make a break for it--which he definitely was--there would be no room for error. How was Will to know if the man could be trusted to release him after he was through with...whatever….he wanted from Will? He recalled the end part of their agreement...something about Will having to help him achieve his own orgasm...but that could mean a million things, and Will was NOT sticking around for clarification. 

He eyed the chains, running between the heavy eye-hook implanted in the wood. The lock was secured to his left wrist. If the curator was actually half as intelligent as he thought he was, surely he should have noticed that Will was right handed. This freed him up even more to try something. He spotted a nail only inches away from his nose. Pushing up onto his tip-toes, Will grasped it between his teeth, getting it good and wet before he tried tugging on it. It wiggled the slightest bit, and that was enough to work it out slowly, back and forth until Will had it freed. He wasted no time in nudging it up to the lock and sticking it into the keyhole. He held his breath as he worked feverishly on the gears. He could envision them inside, the pegs rolling around the tumbler until it came to the corresponding groove. With the dexterity of his right hand, it wasn’t long before he heard that familiar, satisfying “snick” and the lock popped open. 

Freeing his legs would be next, but first thing was first--he did his best to avoid the puddle of shame beneath his belly as he pulled his pants up, hurriedly stuffing himself back in and fastening his belt. He stooped down, nail in hand to unlock the chains at his ankles. 

That’s when the door creaked open. 

“Shit.” His every instinct screaming at him to get away, the fresh wound started seeping again, coating his hands in his own blood and making it damn near impossible to fidget with the damn lock. “Shit, shit,  _ shit!,”  _ he tossed the nail, abandoning the lockpicking idea. Time to do it the old fashioned way. As undignified as he know it looked, Will plopped himself straight on his ass, still glossy and wet from its latest adventure, and proceeded to kick the legs of the table. The massive hunk of wood groaned against the tile, making all kinds of racket and Will couldn’t give a fuck less because Tall Dark and Nasty was making his merry way back down the steps. 

Fucking table was a beast. It wouldn’t budge! 

His cries of frustration became roars, growing louder and louder with every successful kick until the footsteps came to a stop just a few feet behind him. 

“Are you quite finished?” 

Will reeled around, his legs performing an “X” behind his head and he didn’t care how stupid it looked he was going to give the pompous ass a piece of his mind. He jerked upwards violently as if he could stand up in his current position and proceeded to send the top of his head right into the underside of the table. “Owh!” 

The man in the tan suit didn’t look the least bit amused. He let out a slow, soft sigh and retrieved the blade from his sleeve. 

“No-no-no-no-no---wait…” Will pedaled backwards, wedging himself as far under the table as possible, holding his hands out in front of him like some sort of protective force field. “I can explain--- I was just uncomfortable---there’s no need to---I didn’t mean----” 

“Would you like to know what I find exponentially more offensive than you trying to escape--yet again--Mr. Will? Your blatant lies.” 

“Oh, come on…” Will’s self-preservation switched suddenly from flight to fail as he collapsed against the table, exhausted and bleeding. He choked out a dry sob as the curator kept up a slow steady advance--an easy thing to do since it was quite obvious that his prey wasn’t going anywhere. “Please…” was all Will was able to say, and he just continued repeating it, regardless of how helpless and pathetic it sounded. “Please, please, please….” 

“Your eyes…” Hannibal murmured suddenly, crouching down to come face to face with the quivering brunette. “They are such a striking blue. I have never seen their equal.” 

Fear seizing him, Will flattened himself as far backwards as possible, his breath rapid as he murmured, “Th...thank you?” 

“Earrings,” Hannibal chirped suddenly, his mouth pulling upwards into an eerily chipper grin. “Or a pair of curtain pulls, perhaps?” 

“Nooooooo---!,” Will wailed. 

The man’s impish smile suggested that he was toying with the thief, but the blade hovered ever closer to the side of Will’s face. After a pause and an escaped tear rolling down Will’s cheek, the knife was returned to its home in the curator’s suit. 

“You will be relieved to know that I prefer them inside that pretty head of yours.” 

“Oh thank god,” Will choked out, his shoulders falling in relief. 

“That being said…” 

Will swallowed hard as he waited for the other shoe to drop. 

“Your latest infraction cannot go without consequence. Only this time, your consent will not factor into it. You have disappointed me, Will. Your obligations regarding our prior agreement have yet to begin, and here you are already trying to free yourself of your responsibilities.” 

“For what it’s worth,” Will muttered, “How do I know I can trust you?” 

“You do not know.” Hannibal replied plainly. “However, it may help you to consider the fact that I am the only one among us who has so far kept his word.” 

“So far,” Will murmured. 

Hannibal touched the soft plane of Will’s chest and Will could not stop the sublime shiver that coursed through him. 

“Now then, before we continue with the second half of our agreement, what is to be done about your flagrant disregard for personal responsibility?” 

Will held back a growl, his nose furling as he considered reaching out to strangle the man. “Well, it’s pretty clear you’re not going to make a dinner out of me, so what do you suggest?” 

Hannibal’s eyes gleamed. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal was beginning to wonder if his new plaything had wandered into his trap on purpose. Truly, Will should have been ashamed at how quickly he went for the obviously placed nail in the table, but what was truly unforgivable was how he went at the pre-loosened locks without so much as a second thought. The poor dear wasn't thinking clearly. He must have been scared out of his tiny little mind. 

The chains would no longer be necessary. Hannibal believed that Will had learned at least one important lesson by now--he would not be leaving without Hannibal's express permission. That being said, having the delicate yet well-muscled boy on his back in his sitting room, trussed up like the prize pig he was, simply made things all the more enjoyable. 

"Are you warm enough, Will?" Hannibal asked as he loosened his tie. He'd long discarded the plastic covering and his suit jacket along with it.

"What do you care?," came the snappy reply. 

Hannibal ignored it. Normally Hannibal would do this sort of thing in the privacy of the dining room. After all, bringing his captive out into the main portion of the house, where any unknowing visitor could greatly complicate things, was a definite risk. But this was not Hannibal's usual victim. And Will didn't seem like a "usual" anything. 

He'd started a roaring fire in the fireplace and ordered Will onto the Persian rug in front of it. He told him to undress and had taken his time bathing the man by hand, wiping away the dark swirls of blood and dried semen. The cut required several stitches, which Will obliged Hannibal to suture after a glass of brandy for courage. Hannibal appreciated Will's fortitude, how he'd hidden in the thicket of his cinnamon-colored hair and bit down on his lips to keep from screaming. Each time the needle sank in through his skin, Will's muscles trembled. 

In the time it took to tie off the wound and re-tie his captive, Hannibal had at last told Will his name along with less significant details, like how long he'd been curating his museum, and it got Will to share his last name along with some reasons (which were obviously excuses) for his thieving nature. "Mr. Will Graham," Hannibal cooed, trying it out for size. He determined that it suited the scowling man--a delicate name for such a delicate creature.

Now that Will was settled in, skin scrubbed clean, lying on his back in the fetal position with his knees drawn up to his chest, they could get back to business. 

Hannibal had brought some provisions from his kitchen. In the beginning, he hadn't planned to make an entire evening of Will's stay here, but Will was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially one as beautiful as he. 

He laid out a hand mixer along with a cup of heavy cream, and upon sprinkling some sugar into a stainless steel bowl he began to create. 

Will's eyebrows twitched downward. He was clearly uncomfortable, just as Hannibal had intended, and not having to share the details of his entailing punishment was only fuel for the fire. "You said you weren't going to eat me," he rasped. 

" _ You  _ said I wasn't going to eat you," Hannibal corrected. He dipped his finger into the fluffy white concoction, and after adding a splash of vanilla, proceeded to lathe it onto Will's chest. 

Will jerked against the ropes and let out a growl. "Kinky fuckin' bastard---! I should have known…!" 

"Yes I suppose you should have," Hannibal hummed, shoving an overly large strawberry into the thief's gaping mouth. "You really must curb that profanity, Mr. Graham. Your rudeness and unwillingness to cooperate are only irritating me, and in turn prolonging the inevitable."

Will spat out the fruit, hurling it towards the fireplace. It made a sizzling pop as it rolled into the embers. Hannibal frowned. To waste food was yet another unforgivable act. His open palm sailed across Will's face, sending a deafening CRACK bounding off the walls. Will coughed. Hannibal huffed indignantly. "That was disrespectful."

Hannibal had half a mind to retrieve that sizzling fruit and grind it into that perfect pale belly. He decided to take his anger out on Will's nipples instead. Leaning over his victim, holding him in place with a grip on either bicep, Hannibal began his hunt for either stiff little nub buried beneath the mound of melting cream. 

His skin was hot from the fireplace, the smooth textures of his skin mingling with the taste of sugar and lactic acid. He nosed his way into it as Will protested (rather weakly, Hannibal thought), finally latching on to a raised peak and hollowing out his cheeks for a good suck. Will's back arched, his belly flattening against his captor as keening wail escaped. 

One hand travelled between Will’s legs. Will kicked and struggled beneath the crimson ropes. Hannibal chuckled. “My, my,” he teased, grabbing a firm hold of Will’s aching erection and swirling his thumb around the glossy tip. “Methinks he doth protest too much.” 

Something wet spattered against Hannibal’s face.”Go to hell!” 

He smeared off the spit as rage lit up deep within him. It was malicious and unyielding, the kind of sentiment Hannibal hadn’t felt in years. He hadn’t allowed any of his victims to live long enough to commit such an offense. It would appear the vulgar little pickpocket wasn’t gleaning any wisdom from his current predicament.

Hannibal rocked backward onto his knees, a look of sheer disgust maring his otherwise handsome features. “I have been too soft on you, Mr. Graham.” 

Will’s eyes fluttered beneath his thick mop of hair as he drew in a sharp breath. There it was again, the scent of fear, unfurling beneath Hannibal’s nostrils and making his mouth water. 

“I blame myself,” he continued, shifting through the other accoutrements in the brown grocery bag. He carefully set aside the cream, sugar and strawberries. “I made the mistake of beginning with dessert.” 

Will was writhing, his legs sealed together to hide himself from Hannibal, for whatever good it would do him. Hannibal forced them apart, inserting a metal spreader bar and locking it into place. He paid no heed to Will’s terrified pleas, fastening the leather straps around either of his thighs as tight as he pleased. 

“Do you know how a cornish hen is prepared before it is eaten?”

Will was much too far gone to formulate a coherent reply. He rolled around as much as he was able, thrashing his head about comically and straining with all his might against the binds. Not that it mattered. 

“The English prefer to pluck the bird with their bare hands. It ensures that it is fully bald before being consumed. Some also say that plucking the bird while still alive enhances the flavor. The heart pounds when terrified and in pain, ensuring proper blood flow to all vital organs and infusing the meat with fresh oxygen. It is then dispatched, and bound, and set on a chopping block where it is stuffed with various herbs and vegetables. I prefer to begin with carrots myself.” 

Hannibal chose the biggest one from the bunch. He had planned on introducing Will to a medium-sized one and gently working his way up. But the little bandit had already been allowed too many of Hannibal’s good graces, and it had spoiled him. Hannibal knew he must correct his error or else he’d become fully rotten. 

Will emitted a desperate dry sob as Hannibal slid the vegetable between his legs. It was heavy and cold and just on the right side of too large. Just as he’d done with his mouth, he explored the length of Will’s crack, thoroughly enjoying the terrified squalls of his prisoner. “I’m going to stuff you, Will.” 

The symphony of terrified blubbering that ensued was the singular most beautiful sound to ever grace Hannibal’s ears. He couldn’t help but let out a pleased moan, getting impossibly hard in his trousers. He lined the bulbous orange knot up with the clenched ring of muscle, forcing his way inside. Will’s hole fluttered painfully as it was pried apart, swallowing one, then two ridges at the same time it was trying to force him out. 

“Is this your first time, Mr. Graham?,” Hannibal asked over Will’s cries. Will’s eyelids were clenched as tight as his pussy, his head thrown to the side as if to transport himself to another dimension, to escape the humiliation and shame and pain. “You don’t strike me as being particularly keen to homoerotisicm, even if your body betrays you at my every touch.” 

“G---go---to----hell!” Will manages. A desperate insult from a desperate man. 

Hannibal’s eyes grew dark. He pushed in more. 

Will’s legs began to shake, his body going rigid as Hannibal kneeled over him, one arm slipping beneath Will’s shoulders as he pulled the carrot out, then back in again with a filthy “squish”. Will’s body swallowed it in this time, whether or not it wanted to, the pink puckered hole yawning open around the cold, rigid intrusion. “There we are,” Hannibal cooed, softly stroking away the hair away from Will’s face, smoothing back the beads of sweat and tears that began to glisten in the firelight. “That is a very good boy.” He glanced down as he began a slow in-and-out rhythm, one that produced even more delightfully panicked squeals from his captive. Will hadn’t given up fighting back, and indeed Hannibal found Will’s fortitude commendable. He could only imagine that he was in immense pain, even if his cock was so hard it was now slapping against his stomach. 

“Would you like to come again?,” Hannibal murmured, picking up the pace. Will had stopped moving his lower half. Hannibal imagined it was due at least in part to the fact that he was being impaled, ran through directly up his center, his abused hole sending signals throughout his entire body that he was being positively stuffed to the brim. “You may, if you’d like. Consider it a reward.” 

Will’s eyes parted, heavily lidded and glossy from exhaustion. He swallowed dryly, peering up at Hannibal. 

“Y..yes,” he answered meekly. 

Hannibal could barely contain his own excitement at this new development. “Oh, Will,” he murmured, dipping his head to Will’s chest to once more partake of his nipples. They were still standing at attention, pointed to the ceiling as Will’s hips slowly began to move. Hannibal let out a possessive growl, latching on to the nearest bud and shoving the carrot up, up, up into Will until he was sobbing. This time, it was all pleasure. His belly was distending slightly from having his guts filled, and Hannibal thought for certain this was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. As promised, he built his pace and bore down on Will’s tits, his hand beginning to cramp from exhaustion just as Will went rigid, his head flying back to the carpet, his cock releasing in thick white ribbons as he came untouched. 

Hannibal was a little surprised when he felt nothing but the smooth, hot clench of Will’s entrance as it grabbed around his finger. “Such a good boy,” Hannibal breathed. As Will rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm, Hannibal slipped one finger inside, pressing in until he felt a cold, bulbous nub completely buried around soft muscle. “You swallowed it all.” 

  
  


Will opened his eyes after what could have been a second or an hour. Some time had passed because the offending vegetables and now of cream had disappeared, and he was on the floor. His captor -Hannibal- was once again holding a wash cloth, and was about to begin removing the remnants of the whipped cream from his chest. His face was entirely devoid of expression. Will allowed the pendulum to swing, to try and work out what that meant, but once the room was revealed through the veil of his empathy Hannibal wasn’t there any more. In his place was a creature made of darkness, tall and terrible with a crown of antlers. He blinked hard to try and come back to reality, and when Hannibal’s face swam back into view Will was hyperventilating. The other man gave him a long, cool look.

“Where did you go?”

Will huffed a laugh. Where to even start with that answer…

“I have a ‘gift’ if you wanted to be generous. Doesn’t always feel like a gift. I wanted to understand what you were feeling after I apparently passed out. Did I pass out?”

“You did. Extreme pleasure can do that.”

“Fuck you.”

“If you would like.” Hannibal quipped back. 

“I would not like.”

“Shame. So, Will, how do you think I felt?”

“You weren’t there. Something else was. So I have no idea how you feel.”

Hannibal decided to let the first part of the answer go unexplored for now, but he couldn’t deny being fascinated. Another avenue of potential was opening up, which didn’t end in the impending murder of Will Graham. But, if that was to work out, he would need to apply a significant amount of charm.

“Would it surprise you to know that I regret the last part of our encounter?”

“I don’t believe that you regret anything.” Will said to the ceiling.

“So your previous statement about not knowing how I feel was untrue.”

Will looked at him. Those golden eyes stared back; they weren’t empty, psychopathy wasn’t at play here, but what was in them was so carefully trained, so sophisticatedly tucked away behind layers of civility, that to know the truth of them would take a long time.  _ That’s a fucked up thought to be having,  _ Will’s mind said to itself. I have a lot of fucked up thoughts, Will replied.

“About that situation. I don’t know how you felt about that situation.” He broke the eye contact. It felt like drowning. 

“I feel...not good. I overreacted. I misused you.”

Will laughed hysterically. 

“I’ve been in chains or ropes or some form of restraint for hours, I think the misuse started a while ago.”

He felt Hannibal move and tensed up, his fight instinct useless but still active. To his surprise, what he felt next was the ropes being removed from his wrists. He sat up slowly, massaging the bruised skin. He was going to have to find another way to make a living. 

“I would remind you that you have achieved orgasm twice since you’ve been in my care.”

Will began to respond but didn’t know how to process what had just been said to him. 

“Care?” Was all he managed, cocking an eyebrow and managing another moment of eye contact. 

“Come here”.

A strong pair of arms encircled him, and he was pulled against Hannibal’s broad chest.

_ Chin him _ , said Will’s brain.  _ We’re untied, let’s go. _

Will didn’t. In time he would wonder why, but right now the feeling of being held, simply and kindly, after hours of a mix of discomfort and almost agonising pleasure, was like cold water on a burn. He remembered the last part of the bargain, and opened his eyes.

“We haven’t done you yet.”

Hannibal just hummed in answer. Will burrowed deeper into his chest, and was rewarded with fingers in his hair. Soft lips kissed from his temple down the side of his face, teeth gently catching his earlobe before the trail of almost worshipful kisses continued down to his neck. It felt like being set on fire. 

He hasn’t responded, and wasn’t sure if he was meant to, but there was a definite urge to touch back. He ran a hand over Hannibal’s still clothed arm, feeling the muscles flex, and found he liked it. When their lips met he felt warmth spread outwards from the middle of his chest to the tips of his fingers; it was like being wine drunk, heady and intense, and he found himself gasping into Hannibal’s shoulder as he held on to the other man.

“Are you alright?” Hannibal asked, running a hand down his side.

“Since when does that matter?” Will managed to stammer our. Hannibal lifted his chin as if to say ‘fair enough’, before laying Will back down on the floor. He resumed kissing his neck, moving down to the collar bone while Will writhed ok the carpet. This was the worst, weirdest and best day of his life.

Will was beginning to feel rather useless, but the onslaught on sensations did not allow him to do much but moan ‘fuck’, ‘yes’ and ‘light that’. He felt fingers against his hole, already wet and pliant from the earlier carrot-assault, and sucked in a sharp breath. 

“You’ve still got clothes on,” he said. Hannibal looked at him as if to say “and what are you going to do about it”, and Will watched his own hands begin to take off the man’s shirt. He must be mad. The last vestiges of Hannibal’s person suit drop to the floor and Will is enraptured, running his hands over strong stomach muscles and burying his face in soft chest hair. Hannibal wraps a hand around the back of his neck and begins to prepare him again, scissoring long fingers inside him whilst claiming Wills mouth in a bruising kiss.

Suddenly the fingers are gone and Will finds himself once again in bondage, wrists held above his head on the rug whilst Hannibal lines himself up and pushes inside, agonisingly slowly. Will fights, but not to escape this time. He wants to wrap his arms around the other man, and compensates by linking his legs behind Hannibal’s back instead. Hannibal presses his face to the crook of Will’s neck and breathes deeply before starting to thrust, slowly but deliberately, the head of his cock touching places inside Will that made white flashes appear in front of his eyes. Will curses and is rewarded by an answering moan, the first sign that Hannibal isn’t completely, utterly in control; he wants to hear it again and nips at Hannibal’s neck whilst lifting his hips to pull him in deeper. 

“Fuck,” Hannibal breathes against his neck, making Will urge him on faster. He can feel is orgasm building, again, and apparently Hannibal is on the edge of the same cliff because his movements are more erratic now, punctuated by deep groans.

“Come for me,” he says into Will’s ear, and Will has time to think ‘I already have’ before he feels his own release erupt from him at the same time as he feels Hannibal pulse inside him. He laughs once and feels Hannibal press a gentle kiss to the side of his face before he falls asleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter but there’s porn at the end. Basically:
> 
> Hannibal thinks Will doesn’t like him enough to rob him, Will turns up late and gets arrested, someone dies, muchos Daddy kink ensues and everyone winds up happy....for now

A light breeze from the open window caressed his face as if to whisper him awake. Will nosed the overstuffed pillow beneath his heavy head, letting out a defiant grumble. It took another moment for his brain to play catch up and for the memories of the night before to come flooding back. "Oh, shit---" he jolted upright, both fists buried into the silken sheets that were most definitely not his. A quick glance around the room confirmed he was indeed, alone. His whole body tightened as the memory of long, elegant fingers ghosted down his spine. He brushed the covers off his legs, revealing a pair of gray boxer briefs. He wasn't tied down this time, he thought, so that was a plus. Though the evidence remained: light pink rope marks branded his wrists and ankles and criss-crossed over his chest. A fresh bandage was wrapped over the sutured cut in his arm. 

He bit his lip, hesitant to check the other areas of his body but knowing he'd be driven mad with worry if he didn't. He pushed a hand down the briefs, first in front, then in back, a wave of pleasure coursing through him when he traced a finger around his hole. It felt sore and stretched and used and inexplicably...good? He became instantly hard, as if his body was now attuned to being touched there. He withdrew his hand with a ragged sigh and pushed off of the bed. 

His clothes were waiting for him on a chair in the corner-- cleaned and pressed and folded with care. Beneath them, his boots: polished to a mirror shine, despite their age and heavy use. Will shoved away all the questions nagging in his mind and dressed quickly. 

The house, if he could call it that, really showed its size in the daylight. The bedroom emptied out into a second floor, complete with a double spiral staircase like something out of Gone With the Wind. He glanced down at the floor below and frowned. Had he been carried up? 

He glanced back at the room he'd just come from, his every instinct telling him he should sneak out a window and find a way down. A pleasant scent coiled its way up the staircase and caught his attention. The signature breakfast smells of bacon, black coffee and eggs. Only then did he realize how ravenously hungry he was. His stomach was practically rubbing his belly bone. 

"Hell," he murmured to himself as he followed the delightful fragrance and the sound of sizzling juices and a gurgling coffee pot. 

The kitchen was almost as immaculate as the main hall. It was all stainless steel and glass shelving, and a magnificent crystal chandelier suspended above. 

"Good morning," a voice welcomed. Dressed in a pair of slacks and a grey sweater, the stranger took such a soft appearance that Will could not fathom him being the assailant from the night before. In the gentle light pouring from the windows, he took on an angelic aura that made Will's stomach flip. 

"Morning," Will said warily. The man nodded to the bar stool across the counter and Will sat. 

"How do you take your coffee?," Hannibal asked. "Sugar? Cream?" 

Will nodded slightly, careful not to meet his gaze. "A little, please."

The curator's lips curled upward in a slight grin. "I suspected as much," he replied and slid a neatly prepared mug across the table at him. 

Will took a cautious sip and frowned. It was damn near perfect. 

Hannibal gave him a knowing smile. Breakfast came next, presented on a crystal platter, garnished with a marigold. "Egg souffle' with uncured bacon and Swiss chard," he announced. "It is a simple dish, but a crowd favorite."

Will stared down at the food, motionless.

"It is just bacon," Hannibal assured. 

"Like...from a pig?"

The tall man laughed heartily. "Yes. You have my word."

Will wasn't sure if he could trust word of a guy who had assaulted him repeatedly. But seeing as he was still alive and seemingly free to go, he decided to chance it.

"Blow," Hannibal said. 

Will's eyes fluttered. "What?"

"It's hot." The curator leaned forward, so close that Will could smell his soap and aftershave. Will felt his face get bright red. It was as if his entire being was held captive by the man's mercurial gaze. His breath, smelling of coffee and mint, gently ghosted across. "There," he announced finally. 

They ate in relative silence. It was as if the events of the night before were all just a bad dream, and if it were not for the marks written all over his body, Will would gladly believe it. 

"Shall I take you home?" Hannibal asked, stacking the dishes into the washer. 

Will scoffed. "I'm fine." He hugged himself, scowling at the very idea of letting Hannibal know anything more about him than he already did. 

"Your motorcycle is still parked outside the museum," Hannibal explained, drying his hands. "I have to return there this morning anyway. I am expecting a shipment."

Will's ears pricked up. He couldn't help but wonder what new sort of valuables Hannibal was procuring now, and if perhaps Will had jumped the gun. He had laid eyes on the Emerald and gotten greedy, much to his detriment. 

The curator caught that familiar gleam in his eye. "Have you always had a taste for….the finer things?" Hannibal inquired. 

Will pushed off the stool, adjusting his jacket. He was all too eager to get on with it and leave this whole nightmare behind. "Don't worry," he sneered. "Your stash is safe from this point forward. At least from me, anyway."

He thought he heard the man murmur something like "That's a shame" as he turned to grab his jacket. 

It was little surprise that the man owned several cars. It was a given for the lifestyle of someone who collected priceless works of art for a living. 

Hannibal chose the long black Escalade. Will folded his arms, content to stare out the window for the duration. As the engine roared to life, the curator popped the glove box open, producing a thick black strip of cloth. 

Will's eyebrows flew up into his bangs and he glared at the man, reliving the terror that he'd been put through not hours earlier. 

"It is only a precaution," Hannibal urged softly. "I hope you understand why I cannot have you showing up unannounced."

"No I get it," Will admitted. He held his breath as the man stole the distance between them to secure the blindfold around his head. A few tugs ensured the material blocked his view. 

"No peeking, now," Hannibal teased. His lips were so close to Will's that he could feel his breath. Will swallowed sharply, and the man's hands fell from around his face. 

He didn't bother asking why the man had a blindfold at the ready like that. Will had a sickening premonition that he already knew the answer. 

It was about a half-hour long ride back. Hannibal gave the word and Will tugged the forsaken blindfold off, raking his unruly curls back into place.

The museum looked different in the light, too. As they pulled up, it became clear that the rest of the world was just waking up. There in the side lot, chained to a pole right where he'd left it, was Will's 1956 Harley Davidson panhead. He could be wrong, but she looked cleaner than the day before too. 

He forced down the urge to jump from the vehicle as it rolled to a stop. Their thighs had been almost touching the entire ride, and Will wanted nothing more than to be rid of the sick feeling their proximity brought him. 

"Will," Hannibal called softly after him. "If you mention any of this to anyone, there is no going back." 

"You don't have to worry," Will murmured over his shoulder in return. 

Finally free, Will bounded off towards his bike. He gave her a quick once-over before hopping on and peeling off down the road. It was a well laid plan on the curator's part - if nothing else, it would serve as a reminder for Will to be extra cautious on his following heists.

It wasn't until he'd been riding for quite some time that something in his pocket began to prod into his flesh. He frowned, digging it out to toss whatever it was that was poking him, and his eyes flew open as they landed on something smooth, oval, and sparkling green. 

He swallowed hard, clutching the priceless gem to his chest as he continued on down the road. 

……………………………………..

Hannibal was generally cheerful on a molecular level, but his night with Will had catapulted him to new ecstatic heights. He floated through the museum all morning, enjoying the electric buzz in his hands and adrenalised breathlessness. It was the first time he’d felt this way and not left a dead body behind.

He organised the arrival and set-up of the new exhibits, was particularly witty with the delivery crew, and dealt with the bit of banter about the Uffizi’s emerald pendant being missing. He indulged frequently in his memories of Will, smiling often at the ghost of a moan, the feel of Will’s hands as they gripped his biceps, and the smell of his fear and arousal. 

By the early afternoon the butterflies in his stomach had begun to flutter away, and an uneasy sensation was prowling around the edges of his subconscious. It was a shadowy, skulking feeling, possessive and intense, with a touch of the irrational. 

Hannibal realised he might have encountered an emotion he wasn’t completely in control of. Now, if Hannibal were a well adjusted human being, he would have thought ‘I want to make sure that Will Graham falls in love with me and not someone else’, looked him up in the phone book, sent him roses and eventually rimmed him silly. But for all his external sophistication, the reality was that Hannibal could best be described as a hot mess, and so the emotional processing sequence went a bit like this:

Will is so fantastic. He’s gorgeous and sassy and I wish I could rim him again.

Will Graham can’t mean this much to you, you’re a smart, dangerous, good looking cannibal who doesn’t need to rim anyone to be happy.

Correct, it’s time to murder Will Graham.

If he’s dead you can’t rim him.

That complicates things. He does smell wonderful when afraid though.

Do you think he does to bed with everyone he burgles?

Mon dieu, what if he does?

Surely not.

But what if you aren’t the only one?

I wish Will was still in my house.

You could call him.

That would never work. It would be much simpler to quietly permeate his psyche and manipulate him into robbing this and only this museum again and again. I’m going to need more emeralds.

Reader, you can see the hole in this plan. 

Hannibal picked up the phone. 

Will, as it turns out, was also being driven to distraction by his memories of Hannibal.

It had all seemed so simple. In through the window, pick up the gems, out through the same window, fence the stuff, go legit, take the dogs and settle down in Mexico, thank you very much.

He’d never been caught before. He never been handcuffed and penetrated with a root vegetable before, and he definitely hadn’t had the best night’s sleep in the arms of an ‘insert your own theory here - Cannibalistic Serial Killer’ before. He was pretty sure that what had been done to him was illegal. 

He was absolutely sure that he wanted it to happen to him again. 

He had no idea how to even start confronting that reality. 

So he went back to his life. He ignored the remembered feeling of Hannibal’s tongue, his arms, the way he wrapped a protective hand around the back of Will’s neck as he drew him close. He fenced the emeralds, cashed a cheque, found a house in Mexico, walked his dogs. He didn’t pack. The house sale completed. He still didn’t pack. He thought about high cheekbones, smooth coffee and a low, rumbling laugh. The quirk of full lips. He rented out the house in Mexico as a holiday let. 

A couple of times he drove past the museum. He didn’t go in. Then one day, there was a new poster outside.

Emeralds. The new exhibition was emeralds. 

Will’s breath caught. He pointed the motorcycle towards home. He needed to go and prepare his tools - there would be a break in tonight. 

What transpired next was, to risk a copyright infringement, a series of unfortunate events. You see, although Hannibal and Will had spent ‘quality’ time together, the fact was that they just didn’t know each other very well, and so it all went off without a bang. Hannibal, who was a hopeless romantic despite his tendency to pull people’s lungs out while they were still using them, thought that there was no way Will would miss opening night and dressed up more than usual, put champagne on ice, and then sat until 2am waiting for a thief who wasn’t going to show before drinking all the champagne and sitting stone faced in his kill room until the sun came up. He went back to work, hungover and heartbroken.

Will, as was his wont, let empathy get in the way of a good thing. To his mind, Hannibal would be full of guests on opening night and therefore too tired for any fun afterwards. It would make much more sense, therefore, to break in on the second night, when there wasn’t a fancy drinks and tiny nibbles type affair going on. He waited until opening night was well and truly out of the way before sliding under the metal gate at the back of the building, climbing the wall, and jimmying open the small window that led to the disabled bathroom. 

He didn’t know that Hannibal was still in the middle of an almighty strop. 

He couldn’t know that Hannibal had, instead of staying late and waiting for Will, gone out to find a lookalike to dismember.

He therefore hadn’t factored in that Hannibal had, for once, turned the alarm system on.

He was about to find out. 

The second Will’s feet hit the bathroom floor, a piercing wail sounded through the entire building. Jesus bloody fuck and Christ, thought Will. This wasn’t what he was expecting. He panicked for a moment that he had misread the situation, and that Hannibal had simply wanted him out of the way so he wouldn’t tell anyone that Hannibal was a massive wrong’un. Then the logic caught up to him and he realised that Hannibal would want to keep Will away from any form of law enforcement, anywhere, anywhen. Something else had gone wrong then. Hurrah.

He turned and started to exit through the same window he came in by. As his upper body emerged through the small opening, the beam of a high power torch hit his face.

“Police!!”

Fuck.

Hannibal silenced his phone the first time it rang. He was elbow deep in all that remained of a dark haired, angelic featured, very rude young man, and frankly he didn’t need the distraction. Killing Fake-Will hadn’t made him feel any better at all, and now he just wanted to take some organs and be done with the damned thing. He had a headache, and missed Will, and wished he didn’t, which made the headache worse.

By the time the phone vibrated for the third time he was Very Cross. Lips pressed into a tight line he removed a glove, swiped across the screen to answer the call, and answered without any indication that he was holding a spleen.

“Hannibal Lecter.” He said breezily. 

He almost dropped the phone into the chest cavity of Fake Will. 

“There must be some mistake,” he improvised smoothly. “Will is my maintenance man.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“I must have turned the alarm on while he was still in the building. How silly of me. I am sorry for all the confusion.”

In the police station the officer stared at the screen where, on the museum’s CCTV footage, Will Graham can be seen folding himself under the security gate and forcing open a window to gain entry.

“That isn’t what it looks like to me, Sir.”

“Nonsense,” Hannibal replied, trapping his phone between his shoulder and his ear whilst forcing parts of Fake Will into a garbage bag.

“I’ve employed Will for years. I’ll come and get him now.”

NASA rockets have moved slower than that Bentley as Hannibal headed towards the precinct with a dead body in the trunk and a heart filled with love. 

*********

Hannibal supposes that police stations should make him somewhat nervous, given his late-night hobbies. Perhaps it would affect a weaker man. Hannibal walks in like he owns  
the place, and indeed anybody who is anyone at all knows that he certainly has the means to do just that if he so chose. Not that he is bragadocious in regards to his wealth. The less the layman knows about him the easier it makes it. 

"We're really sorry about the mix-up", says the Undersherriff. " He leads Hannibal through the short rows of cages--built for man, by man, and Hannibal's dead heart flutters to life when he lays eyes on his fallen angel. 

He is a gem among the squallor, sitting hunched over on a bench, hiding in his hair while the ingrates lurk about. Will glances up, those sea-blue eyes flashing, pretty mouth parting as he rises from his place. It then Dawns on Hannibal, of course they did not tell Will he was coming. Thank goodness Hannibal had not wasted any time in rescuing him! If any of these brutes had so much as laid a finger on him, Hannibal would have been knees-deep in a bloody mess for the next several days. 

Hannibal's memories of Will are bathed in night and firelight. He simply was not prepared for how devastatingly beautiful he is in the early morning sunrise. His freckles kiss the high blush on his cheeks, his dark stubble framing those pink lips. Quel oiseau magnifique!

"Again, Mr. Lecter, we apologize for the inconvenience." 

Hannibal gives the man a small nod of acceptance as he sets his caged bird free. Will glances Hannibal's way, his expression unreadable. When Hannibal offers him a reassuring smile, his features soften. 

Their visit ends with a quick trip to the front desk to collect Will's belongings, and a small stack of papers for Hannibal to sign. Perhaps it's gratuitous, but it's as if Hannibal is claiming an ownership of sorts over his little brown-haired dove, with the blessings of the magnanimous Baltimore PD.

"You enjoyed that way too much," Will states as they strap in and the Bentley rumbles off down the road. Hannibal doesn't bother hiding his grin. 

"You have no one but yourself to blame, Will." And as far as Hannibal is concerned it's absolutely true. "I even rolled out my finest welcoming mat." It had been a royal headache, securing the emeralds for the exhibition. He'd had to bargain with some rather unsavory characters and a few organised crime syndicates. On more than one occasion he'd had to sign an insurance policy for replacement of the value of the gems, up to an including a liver and two kidneys. (Of course, it goes without saying that those would be easily procured with a simple trip to his freezer.)

Will's eyebrows furl as Hannibal takes a side-road. "This will take us out of town," he murmurs, obviously perplexed. Hannibal reaches across to caress the fine freckles dotting Will's hand. A sublime mixture of sweat and fear unfurl beneath his nose, but Will does not pull away.

"You'll have to forgive me darling," Hannibal cooes. "I have a quick stop to make before we can head home."

As they barrel down the road, Hannibal dares to squeeze Will's fingers and Will opens them to accept Hannibal's in turn. He cannot help but feel like a giddy newlywed, anxiously awaiting his well-earned honeymoon. 

***********

Will does not know this town. To be perfectly honest, he doesn't even know where "here" is. Its as if Hannibal has transported them to some other dimension--a land of never ending wheat fields and dilapidated barns. He supposes he should feel more gratitude than he does towards his captor---or rather his savior? Shit, his brain is screwed sideways on all this. 

But there are more pressing matters right now than his feelings. The man in the seat beside him, whose fingers are entertained with Will's, wears a casually pleasant smile on his face and if that ain't an indicator that some real shady shit's about to go down than Will doesn't know *what* is. 

A lump forms in his throat as they turn another corner, this time hitting dirt. Will's mind scrambles. Where could he be taking him? Is he going to kill him after all? Does he think Will squealed? But if so, why would the cops let them.both leave without question? Will's head is starting to pound, lost in all the possible ways he could be completely screwed (and some of those ways, literally).

Just about the time Will feels himself about to pass out, the car rumbles to a stop. The sun is just beginning to peak out over the tops of the trees, casting a purplish hue over everything. They must have traveled West. Or West-ish, anyway. 

"Stay here," Hannibal instructs. 

RUN, Will's brain screams. 

He does a little bit of both. As the suited man makes his way out and around the car, Will springs out, nearly faltering on a soft patch of dirt before catching himself against the hood. Hannibal's eyebrow quirks, but other than this and a momentary pause, he seems unfazed. 

He pops the trunk without bothering to correct Will. Perhaps it's a gun. If it is, they're in the middle of nowhere and Will is an excellent runner but he hasn't seen another soul for miles. His only hope would be to make a break for it I to the bushes and hunker down...until Hannibal ultimately tracked him and shot him anyway. 

Once again, he finds himself completely at the man's mercy. This is not at all how he was envisioning their second encounter to happen. 

"Stay there," Hannibal says, motioning to the front of the Bentley. This time it sounds more like a request. Or a warning. 

Will goes white as a sheet when a bulky black bag is heaved out of the trunk and onto the ground with a heavy "THUD". Oh. Oh shit. 

OH SHIT. 

Both hands go into his hair, clawing at the roots as he watches the calm-faced man heft the bag over his shoulder and takes off into the woods, as if it were nothing. 

Less than nothing. 

Will jerks around to look back into the car, in the console. Of course Hannibal took the keys. Will can't blame him for this. Never trust a thief. Will could probably hotwire the car, but what good would it do? It is safe to assume at this point that Will is not the one going into the ground. 

He sucks in a deep breath, and fighting against everything within himself, trots off after Hannibal into the dark of the woods. His legs are shaking with every step. 

The morning sun has begun to stream in through the branches. The heat of early spring, combined with the miles of rough terrain has caused Will to shed his flannel overshirt and the it around his waist. He's thirsty and exhausted from a sleepless night in a pen with seven goons and his shoes aren't made for hiking. He breathes a relieved sigh when Hannibal finally sets the bag down. Resting on his knees, his breathing rapid, he cannot help but notice the Curator is still perfectly collected, save a single droplet of sweat beading his brow. It's then Will wonders, is he even human?

Hannibal pauses as he places one hand on the bag, looking up with pleading eyes at Will. "Avert your eyes, darling."

Will blinks. It isn't what he wants, but he cannot seem to tear his eyes away. He swallows hard, his feet seemingly frozen in place. 

Hannibal lets out a beleaguered huff. "Very well." 

All hope that this something, anything, besides what Will knows in his heart to be true is dashed to pieces, splattered onto the mossy ground as the curator dumps out the contents. 

"Try your best not to vomit," comes the caution. 

Will clamps a hand over his mouth as he feels his empty stomach wrenching. A head, two legs and a torso flop out, grayish in color and bereft of blood. Ghostly silver eyes stare up at him from beneath a matted head of curly brown hair. 

When the ground releases him, Will stumbles backwards with a muffled wail, jamming his eyes shut as the hot tears well up. You monster-! He wants so badly to scream. You murdering piece of shit! When he uncovers his mouth, the only sound to tumble out is a weak "why?"

"I missed you." 

Will's eyes flutter. The corpse--the man--he looks disturbingly similar to Will. "Wh…" Will swallows down a dry wad of bile that manages its way up his throat. "Who is he?"

Hannibal shrugs, reaching into the bag to toss an arm out. It bobbles against the tree before slumping to the ground. "No one of consequence."

"How...how could you say that?!" Wills voice rises, an indignant rage swelling within him, chasing away the shock. "He was someone! He had a life, Hannibal! He had a family! A mother, father, maybe children...he was loved!"

"Say it again," Hannibal murmurs, himself seemingly suddenly lost in a fog. 

The request has Will's brain doing backflips. "He...was someone?"

Hannibal laughs softly to himself, shaking his head. "No. The part where you said my name."

Will has half a mind to send his fist right through those perfect teeth. The other half, however… He swallows again, the tears dotting his eyelashes slowly drying as he bats them. "H..Hannibal."

As if the notes of the finest symphony ever written are ghosting across the air, Hannibal raises his head to the sky, sliding his eyes shut as an exquisite smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you," he murmurs. "Now, my dear, if you wouldn't mind being quiet. Daddy's working."

Will can feel the hair on the back of his neck bristle. "You're not my Daddy."

"But you would like me to be," Hannibal states. It is not a question. 

"I'm not having this conversation while you dump a dead body," he growls. "One that looks unnervingly like me, I might add." 

"Fair enough," Hannibal hums. Will cannot help but catch a glimpse of the curator's self congratulatory smile from the corner of his vision. 

Will hugs himself as Hannibal finishes, careful not to look back on the sad remnants of a stranger's wasted life. He cannot help but wonder if he could have prevented his death. Perhaps if he'd showed up that first night of the exhibit, instead of waiting like a selfish idiot. 

"You don't have a shovel," Will notes as a morbid curiosity overcomes him.

"Of course not," Hannibal replies. "Why dispose of what Nature is more than capable of taking care of herself?"

Will's eyebrow twitches. "You aren't...worried about the body being discovered?"

Hannibal shrugs. "These woods have been here for centuries, my dear Will. With any luck they Will be here for centuries after you and I are gone. They remain relatively untouched by man, due to the hazardous nature of the terrain, and it's unyielding fauna." When Will only offers him a quizzical look, he concludes, "It would not considered prime real estate for subdivisions or golf courses."

"Still," Will murmurs, slumping with his back against a tree. "Aren't you taking a risk by just...leaving him here?" 

"He " will be prime feed for coyotes. In a little less than a week he will be reduced to bone and sinew. And the wind and weather and fly larvae will take care of the rest. As for the 'risk', my darling, was it not a risk to let you go?"

Will swallows. It's unnerving, how much sense the man makes. "...I suppose so."

"All rewards require risks," Hannibal asserts. 

After what seems like an eternity, Hannibal completes his grisly task, carefully folding the black bag into a fresh zip lock and adding in the gloves. Will's mouth drops open. "You're going to keep those?"

"Heavens no," Hannibal chimes with a soft chuckle. "I cannot very well leave them.here now can I? It's un-environmental. I have a proper method of disposal back at home."

Will lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in. Why does the fact that Hannibal literally thought of everything calm him? Is it because he doesn't like the idea of Hannibal being caught? 

Hannibal slips the evidence into a secret pocket and gently presses a hand on the small of Will's back. The touch is electric. Even after this, Will can't deny how good it feels. 

"Don't look back," Hannibal commands, pinching Will's chin as they walk to ensure that he doesn't. "There is nothing to look back on."

The trek back to the car is graciously silent and it takes less time than Will thought it would. Without a word spoken between them, they both buckle in and as quietly as they came, Hannibal turns the car around towards town.

They stop at a greasy spoon halfway home. Whether Hannibal heard Will's stomach growling or he himself is hungry, Will is thankful for the stop. He rushes inside to take a leak to stare accusingly at himself in the mirror while he scrubs his hands. He can't seem to get them clean. 

Everything that is decent in him is screaming at him to get out, to run, to get the fuck out of dodge and never come back. It's an uphill battle. Despite all that Hannibal is...or maybe because of it…. God help him but Will wants more.

He wipes his hands and saunters out as if the ghost of the boy whom Will's selfishness killed isn't following right behind him. 

He slides into the booth with a drawn out sigh and glances down to see a neatly made cup of coffee staring up at him. It smells like cake and heaven. 

"Three creams, two sugars," Hannibal says. 

Will tries to keep his eye from twitching. "How...did you know?"

Hannibal shrugs, taking a sip from his own cup, which is silky and black. "It's what I made for you for breakfast. I'm not magic, Will. Just observant."

Will has his doubts about that. He murmurs a thank you into his cup and takes a much-needed swig. So many questions swirling around in his head. If this is life now, if he's going to be dating the blonde haired, flint eyed , Bently-Driving-People-Eater, there are certain things he needs to know. That being said, assuming the man doesn't change his mind about keeping Will off the menu, they have plenty of time to discuss things. 

********  
The waitress brought some kind of cherry pie concoction which Hannibal looked suspiciously at before taking one elegant bite and pushing it away.

“If you can make it home I can prepare you something much better,” he said. Will had already wolfed down half of his pie and had his eye on the plate that Hannibal discarded. Hannibal made a noncommittal gesture and picked up his coffee. They were staying then. 

“So,” said Will, emboldened by sugar. “How long have you been...you know.”

Hannibal was feeling minxy and therefore decided to feign ignorance, raising a fine eyebrow and making a confused face. Will rolled his eyes and tried to mouth ‘serial killer’ at Hannibal.

“A serious chinchilla?” Hannibal asked loudly, causing people to look in their direction. Will hid his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry Will, what were you trying to say?”

Will gave him a particularly threatening look, even around a mouthful of cherry pie, and made a ‘don’t fuck with me’ gesture with his fork.

“Ok, ok”, Hannibal held up his hands. “I’m sorry...I’m just glad you’re here. I was 18, the first time.”

Will froze mid-bite of pie, fixing Hannibal with wide eyes. 

“I have, for one reason or another, taken the odd break throughout the years. But apart from that I have been active since then. Very active, compared to most.”

Will swallowed the pie. Well, at least he was dating a high achiever. 

“How many?”

“Will it make you feel better to know?” Hannibal countered.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know you’re better than the rest of them.” Will recoiled from what he’d just said, appalled at both the honesty and the very fact that it was true. 

“Over a thousand,” Hannibal said quietly. Will’s skin felt electrified. He picked up his coffee, hands shaking.

“Are you proud of me?”

“More than I can say.” Will smiles into his coffee. 

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Can we go home now?”

Hannibal nodded, catching the waitresses eye and making the universal ‘cheque please’ motion with his hand. He was undeniably nervous and hated it, deciding to head back towards the more familiar territory of icy control and flowery syntax. Unfortunately for Hannibal, Will was far too switched on for that kind of nonsense. 

“Don’t do that.” Said Will.

“Do what, Will?”

“Retreat back into the familiar territory of icy control and flowery syntax.”

“Who says that’s where I had gone?” Asked Hannibal after he’d wiped the ‘what the fuck?’ expression off his face.

“The set of your shoulders and complete lack of facial expression,” said Will. “Plus the fact that acceptance scares you much more than incarceration ever could, and I just put away two pieces of pie whilst you told me about how you’ve killed over one thousand people since you were 18.”

Hannibal had been playing this all wrong.

“When did you first steal something?” He countered. Will laughed, genuinely.

“Nice try, big guy.” He looked around. There was no one outside the diner with them, just the crisp air and distant sound of the highway. He shivered slightly before putting his arms around Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal ran his hands up and down Will’s side before embracing him tightly.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” Will said against Hannibal’s lips.

“Thank you for coming to rob me,” Hannibal smirked back. “Even if you were late.” Will’s eyes went wide.

“You thought I’d come on opening night?” He asked, placing light kisses along Hanniabl’s jaw.

“Well what possessed you to wait until after opening night? Opening night is the point.” 

“But you’d have been tired.” Will pulled back to look Hannibal in the eye. “From all the people, and nibbles, and polite conversation.”

Hannibal wanted to retort that he never got tired, but couldn’t be bothered frankly and kissed Will deeply instead. Will moaned slightly, slipping his hands under Hannibal’s shirt and stepping closer. Hannibal pushed a hand down the back of Will’s jeans and their kissing became hungrier and more frantic. Will sucked on Hannibal’s bottom lip before releasing it and saying:

“Your car has tinted windows right?”

It was warmer in the Bentley, the leather seats apparently having been made purely for this. Better put that in the brochure, Will thought as he slid along the backseat until his head bumped against the door. Hannibal climbed in on top of him and somehow managed to shut the door. There wasn’t room for a whole long but neither of them seemed to mind that; Will held on to Hannibal like he never intended to let go and kissed him slowly and sensuously before kissing and nipping his way down Hannibal’s neck. 

“Sit there,” he said, gesturing to the seat before getting to work on Hannibal’s fly. Taking the leaking head into his mouth, he sucked for a moment of two, enjoying Hannibal’s surprised moan before taking him all the way down. He gagged slightly the first time and backed off briefly, feeling Hannibal’s fingers in his hair, before going all the way down again. He set a torturously slow pace, taking Hannibal to the back of his throat before sliding back up, sliding his tongue around the tip and frenulum and massaging the foreskin with his hand. 

“Will,” Hannibal said weakly. Will looked up at him - the man was a wreck. Will smiled on the inside and started to move a little faster, enjoying feeling Hannibal’s hips start to jerk underneath him, small cries drawn from his lips that grew louder and more frequent until Hannibal shouted his name and came deep in Will’s throat. Breathing deeply, Hannibal pulled Will to him, trying to talk but still incoherent. Will let himself be held, and grinned. Everything was going to be alright. 

The drive home was comfortably quiet. Hannibal held Will’s hand as he drove, dropping it only to signal and take the sharp left into Chandler Avenue. Once they’d parked Will found that he wasn’t quite ready to get out of the car, taking Hannibal’s hand once more and drawing it to his lips. 

“Are you feeling unsure?”

“No,” Will replied definitely. “No I just...wanted to savour the moment, I guess.” Hannibal leaned over and kissed him tenderly, and when he pulled back Will chased his lips, making Hannibal laugh. Will realised he loved that noise.

“Come inside, Will. The last thing you ate was diner cherry pie, which we must remedy.”

“That’s not the last thing I ate.” Will quipped back. Hannibal shrugged his shoulders a little, and grinned.

Hannibal made croque madames, which Will thought was pretty spectacular for a fried ham sandwich. They settled in the big armchairs in front of the fire and Hannibal brought out brandy, which Will had never had much truck with, but received gratefully anyway. 

“What time even is it?” He asked.

“It’s just gone 1am.” 

“I hope my neighbour looked in on my dogs.” 

“We’ll go and check on them in the morning.” 

“What about the museum?”

Hannibal gave him a look that said ‘what about it?’ before glancing down at the rest of his brandy, seemingly considering something. Abruptly, he put the brandy down and got up, leaving Will to look after him, eyebrows raised. When he returned, he took Will’s glass off him, and then sat back down.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Will asked, bemused.

“I’ve grown tired of being apart from you.” Hannibal patted his lap. “Sit here.” 

Will could live with that. He arranged himself in Hannibal’s lap, legs over the side of the chair.

“Not like that.” Hannibal’s voice was light, but there was a tone to it that suggested he expected to be obeyed. Will raised an eyebrow.

“Kneel over me, and place your hands either side of my head.”

“So commanding.” Will replied, but he obeyed, feeling the beginnings of arousal light up his stomach. 

“Such a good boy.” Will’s stomach did a back flip at that. Hannibal undid Will’s fly before helping him to shimmy out of his trousers before taking off his own. He was hard already, and Will leant forward to rub their erections together. 

“Not yet.” Came the command.

“You know for the guy sitting underneath me you’re giving a lot of orders.”

Hannibal looked at Will for a moment and slapped his arse, hard. Will shouted with surprise. 

“Can you behave?” Hannibal asked.

“If that’s the punishment then I’m not sure.” Will replied. Hannibal looked annoyed. He moved so fast that Will wasn’t sure exactly what happened but the next moment he was bent over Hannibal’s knee. A stinging blow landed on his already tender arse cheek and he squirmed at the delicious pain. Hannibal struck him again and again, hardly waiting in between strikes, until Will was breathless, his skin warm and red from the spanking. Will was worried he might come all over Hannibal before they’d even got going.

“Can you behave?” Came the question.

Will hesitated. He would quite like to be spanked some more but that would mean putting off being fucked, so….

“Yes Daddy.”

He felt Hannibal’s cock twitch underneath him. Gotcha. 

“Good.” Hannibal’s voice was rougher now. “Put your hands back on either side of my head, and kneel over me.”

Will got back into position. Hannibal didn’t look wrecked yet but he wasn’t as pristine as he’d look a few minutes ago. He looked at Will hungrily.

“Kiss me.”

Will didn’t need to be told twice. They kissed hungrily, while Hannibal cupped Will’s thoroughly spanked arse, feeling him hiss into the kiss at the sting. Will felt him reach into his jacket pocket - so that’s where you went - and pull out a small bottle of lube. Will leaned into the back of the chair and deepened the kiss as he felt Hannibal’s slick fingers around his hole. 

Hannibal took his time, bastard, massaging around the rim and perineum before, finally, pushing a finger inside. Will pushed back into the contact, breaking the kiss.

“Did I tell you to stop?” 

Will looked back down at Hannibal, and decided that he probably would be enough of a sadist to stop what they were doing if Will misbehaved. But Will knew how to get to him now.

“No Daddy.” He said quietly, enjoying the small moan from Hannibal before he started kissing him again. Hannibal added more lube and another finger, stretching Will but avoiding his prostate, making him squirm. Will felt electric but he wanted more, bearing down on Hannibal’s fingers and making a small, desperate sound into their kiss. He felt more than heard the gorgeous, rumbling laugh, and then the fingers were gone. Hannibal pulled back from the kiss, and lined up his cock.

“Ride me, boy.”

Will didn’t need to be told twice. He sank down onto Hannibal’s cock, taking him to the hilt in one go. They both groaned at how fantastic it felt, Hannibal gripped Will’s waist and started to lift him up and down, showing him the rhythm. Hannibal felt amazing inside him but then the other man changed the angle of his hips and Will saw stars. He slammed down into Hannibal’s cock again and again, head thrown back, not caring how loud he was.

“Will, slow dow-” Hannibal’s words were cut off as he came with a hoarse cry, his orgasm seemingly going on and on. Will rode him through it, only stopping when he could see Hannibal becoming over sensitive. Hannibal pulled him in for a kiss, gentle and delicate, before picking Will up and turning them around so Will was in the chair and Hannibal was kneeling in front of him. Before Will could register what was happening, Hannibal slid two fingers back inside him and took the head of Will’s cock into his mouth. He sucked gently, running his tongue over the head, listening to Will’s small moans and half words, before starting to move his fingers inside Will. Will was almost beside himself, assaulted by sensations. Hannibal deepthroated him at the same time as his fingers found Will’s prostate, and then Will was gone. His back arched up off the chair as he screamed Hannibal’s name, and Hannibal swallowed him down greedily, taking every drop. 

“I think I’ve gone blind.” He said, and was rewarded by that magical laugh.

“I’m not entirely sure I can stand up yet,”  
Hannibal replied. “But when I can I’ll take you bed.”

“Jesus Christ, you want round two after that?”

“You’re twenty years too late for a round two at this sort of notice. I meant to sleep.”

Will laughed, and sat up enough to look at Hannibal. He looked beautiful, eyes blown, lips full and red, hair all over the place.

“You’re gorgeous.”

“I know.”

Will laughed louder than he ever had in his life, and contemplated the idea that he was truly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if it’s regular updates you want we are not your girls. But we ALWAYS deliver the porn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal meets the dogs.  
> Will is happy. Then Will is not so happy.  
> Then Will fucks up. Bigtime.  
> Hannibal forgives him....or does he?

Will first realized he was losing his touch when he let Hannibal drive him home. It was one thing to play fast and loose with his own life, but as the Bentley rolled up the driveway it became apparent that his was not the only one at stake. The raucous barking from inside the house, muffled only by century-old windows, was the lower-pitched "INTRUDER ALERT" warning that they gave stranges. When Will stepped out, it quickly switched into the hyper, happy "DADDY'S HOME" celebration he knew so well, accompanied by light pawing.

"Okay babies," Will chuckled, dropping to his knees as he unlocked the door and a brood of furry children tumbled over him. A blur of warm tongues and bad breath greeted him happily, tails flung high into the air. 

Hannibal trailed behind, Will's silent shadow. He quirked one eyebrow when Chase, the boldest of the pack, strode forward to gingerly sniff Hannibal's dropped hand. 

He let out a soft "wuff" and read Hannibal's stoic expression for a moment before deciding Hannibal was not an immediate threat and trotting off into the field to join his siblings. 

"He doesn't seem to mind you," Will stated, honestly surprised. 

"Of course he doesn't," Hannibal replied, stepping over Will and into the house as if he owned the place. "I smell like you."

Will felt the heat rush to his face. Hannibal had been balls-deep in Will, in as many ways as one man could be inside another, and Will suddenly felt thoroughly marked. 

Will rose to his feet, placing his hands in his back pockets as Hannibal surveyed his surroundings. Suddenly, Will felt guilty for the silliest things --- the throw pillow that had been knocked off the couch, the fact that there was a hair-covered dog bed every other step, and the general smell and feel that an old house takes on when it is been overrun by a family of undesirables. 

"I...i haven't had a chance to clean…" Will stammered, suddenly feeling unworthy of the sharply dressed man with the italian leather shoes and the perfectly pressed shirt.

"Nonsense," Hannibal shushed, leaning in to give Will a reassuring kiss. "It's charming." Will was inclined to believe him.

Will gave him the "tour", which wasn't much more than a few steps into the kitchen and a few more down the hallway. The bedroom was the most kempt room in the house, and secretly Will congratulated himself for bothering to make the bed when he was home last.

Maybe it was his overactive empathy, but he could all but hear the questions swirling around inside Hannibal's mind. If a man like Will, who supposedly makes his living off burgling men like Hannibal, choses to live like this, where does all that money go? 

Firstly, Will was in NO HURRY to divulge all his secrets, especially not to a man who had held him against his will and who was so skilled in making people "disappear". Secondly, he saw little good in confessing that all he'd ever been good at is stealing shit and going on the run. 

Standing there in front of the bed, Will felt his cock twitch inside his pants, and it was like the recent memory of their lovemaking had imprinted on his body. "That's it, I'm afraid," he said a bit too quickly.

Fingers pressing into his back and a voice ghosting across the nape of his neck made him suck in his lower lip. "On the bed, Will. Now." 

Before Will had a chance to comply, his clothes were being yanked off his body, a delightfully familiar pleasure lighting up his insides. He allowed himself to be stripped, rather roughly, he might add, before being shoved down onto his bed, face-first. 

It took another moment before the hot sting of Hannibal entering him registered in his mind. When it did, it was too late too resist, not that Will would. He griped the pillow beneath him, knuckles white, gasping as his hole was stretched out around Hannibal's unforgiving girth. Suddenly he was glad he didn't clean up after their earlier round. But goddamn it couldn't the man be just a bit smaller?

His rhythm was just as ruthless, peeling a choked cry from Will's chest that was drowned out only by the wet slap of skin-on-skin. 

"You know what I'm doing," Hannibal said, and Will was not sure whether or not it was a question. He was certain, however, that his response was neither warranted nor required. "I'm scenting you, Will. Marking you as mine."

'Okay that's whatever', Will thought. 'So long as you keep fucking me.' His poor hard cock was getting rubbed raw on the mattress beneath him, and he reached between his legs to help himself off.

Hannibal slapped his hand away with a possessive growl that borders on animalistic. "No," he hissed sharply. "That's mine, too."

Will's eyebrow twitched. "Did you seriously just insinuate that I can't---"

"I insinuated nothing," Hannibal rasped between thrusts. "I am telling you exactly what is and is not going to happen, Will, and you will obey me." 

Will bucked backwards without warning, like a Bronco trying to throw off his rider.

Hannibal's hand clamped down around him suddenly, and white-hot pain shot through him. "Very rude," Hannibal growled. As much as Will hated himself for it, he sobbed into his pillow, using it as best he could to muffle his cries. Hannibal didn't deserve to hear them. He had crossed a goddamn line and as soon as Will got the chance to get up off this bed he was going to….going to….

Hannibal's hand continued working away at Will's poor, abused shaft, not letting go or slowing up even as he threw Will's leg behind him and started screwing him sideways. 

"Hann….Hannibal...please," Will coughed.

Hannibal was over top of him, pressing his weight down on Will with so much force that it tore the air from his lungs. He pulled Will's orgasm up by the roots, his lips curling into an unmistakable smile when Will dissolved into a string of insults and expletives and released all over everything despite himself. 

Hannibal soon followed, filling Will until he felt he might burst. He slumped over him, panting softly and ignoring Will's weak attempts to slap him away. Even now, Will's body was vibrating like a fucking tuning fork with a confusing mixture of rage and relief, he could not deny how right it felt to be in Hannibal's arms. 

Hannibal let out a happy hum, softly stroking Will's damp hair and pressing disturbingly chaste little kisses on his temple. 

"You're the devil," Will murmured. Hannibal laughed softly. 

When he was finally allowed up, Will found seven pairs of eyes staring at them from the doorway, their heads cocked in confusion. Up until this point, Will had been successful in living a solitary life. He always held the philosophy that dogs are a lot less troublesome companions than humans. He had no fucking clue just how right he'd turn out to be. 

It's perhaps because of his dogs' easygoing nature that Hannibal was accepted into the pack pretty readily after that. Hannibal didn't seem to mind them, even going so far as to join Will on their walks. He happily shared morsels of whatever lunch he would bring, and Will pretended not to notice when Hannibal slipped them little bits under the table. 

While they never reached a state of true normalcy, he and Hannibal's budding relationship settles into a comfortable routine. Hannibal didn’t mention his after-work activities, and Will was careful not to ask. Hannibal had been able to abide by the stipulation that he bring nothing incriminating into Will's home-- "edible" or otherwise. 

Will actually learned that for the most part, he could relax around him. Will was invited to Hannibal's elaborate Galas where Hannibal showed him off to his fancy-ass friends. Will took pride in being Hannibal's new plaything, and he was rewarded lavishly with gifts and attention. 

Hannibal chose the outfit that Will would wear, and left it on the bed with an official invitation. Sometimes he included the business card of a stylist that he expected Will to see, who would slick his hair back neatly into a ponytail, leaving a few stray locks framing his face. The stylist had already been given express instructions on how Will was to wear his facial hair, if any at all. Hannibal usually preferred him with just a few day's worth of growth, tightly trimmed beneath his cheekbones and peppered delicately around his lips. 

Hannibal would sometimes excuse himself halfway through the party, particularly if he had caught Will flirting with a debutante or the doorman. He would gently lead Will up the winding stairs with a hand pressed against his lower back, making certain his guests watched them leave. They always returned 25 or 30 minutes later not quite as put-together as before, lips bitten and red, stray hair sticking up in places, a pink glow evident on their cheeks. 

It took Will another few weeks to realize he hadn't had the desire or the need to take up his night-job. With someone keeping him fed and clothed and cared for in every way possible almost on the daily, he hadn't even thought of it. He didn't see how he could possibly carry out a heist anyways, not when Hannibal was sleeping in his bed or he in Hannibal's. When it comes to thieving, overnights were kind of the whole thing. 

And at first Will didn’t mind. It felt good to be taken care of; after a hard childhood following his father around boatyards, and an adolescence and adulthood spent on the other side of the law, a bit of luxury and pampering are just what the curator ordered. It doesn’t mean that Hannibal thought any less of him - he frequently told Will how clever and beautiful he was - and sometimes Will thought that Hannibal was just as overwhelmed by having someone truly know him, homicidal tendencies and all, and still want to cuddle him. But somewhere along the way a seed of doubt had been planted, and those anxious questions that Will would have liked not to think about kept running in the hamster wheel of his mind.

If you are not still a criminal mastermind will he get bored of you?

Can he truly respect you if he doesn’t let you spend money, cook anything or even dress yourself?

Will you become a skill-less docile burden incapable of looking after yourself?

Is he just fattening you up to eat you?

Are you still you?

Are you anyone at all?

The problem was that Will enjoyed being dominated, and so it was easy just to let it happen. He made plans to try telling Hannibal what to do, but frankly when it came to it doing whatever Hannibal wanted him to and calling him daddy was Will’s idea of a perfect evening. He just wished he didn’t equate that with being a pushover. He didn’t used to. It all came to a head one Sunday evening:

The day had been wonderful. Will had the rare privilege of waking up before Hannibal, and had spent a delicious half hour just staring at the man. Eventually he’d been unable to resist the urge to kiss him, which lead to sleepy, affectionate morning sex, which lead to less sleepy but still affectionate coffee and cuddles in the kitchen. If anyone tells you that serial killers can’t be huggers, tell them this story. Anyway, after coffee and cuddles there was a long dog walk in the snow. They spoke little but held hands the whole way, Hannibal occasionally switching sides so Will could throw a stick. 

“Do you have someone who could watch the dogs for a couple of weeks?” Hannibal asked, breaking the easy silence.

“Yeah, a couple. Why?”

“I would like to take you away, just for a short trip. We could find some sun.”

“I didn’t take you for a winter sun kind of guy.”

“I hate being cold.” Hannibal said quietly. He was looking off into the tree line. Will felt instantly guilty.

“You should have said, you could have stayed in with a blanket and the space heater.”

Hannibal looked at him, and the smile was back in his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t have missed this time with you for anything. But, I confess, winter gets to me. Will you come?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want. Your place in Mexico if you want, although I would rather spoil you.”

“Of course you would. When would you want to go?”

“Soon.”

“Ok. We don’t have to go to my place. It’s three stars at best, you’ll hate every second of it. We’ll do it your way.”

“You’ll let me pick the destination?”

“I’ll let you pick everything, you always do. Just run some dates by me so I can organise a dog sitter.”

Hannibal had thought about arranging accidents for Will’s dogs, but cruelty towards animals was beneath him so for now a dog sitter it was. He pulled Will towards him and kissed him tenderly. They spent a long moment pressed together, looking into each other’s eyes before heading back to the house and warming up with spiced hot chocolate which Will didn’t know he had the ingredients for, but apparently when Hannibal was around that didn’t matter. Will looked at the man who still looked so out of place in his modest little house, even in his casual wear, and for a glorious moment there wasn’t a nagging doubt or intrusive thought in his mind.

That lasted all of three hours. 

They went back to Hannibal’s house for the evening, with Hannibal driving and Will dozing while they held hands over the centre console. Will was silently becoming stressed about leaving his dogs for two weeks, but instead of vocalising that he went into himself and became irritated and anxious. A well balanced adult would have spotted this and initiated a conversation, but as we’ve discussed that description doesn’t apply to Hannibal, so he registered Will’s distress and decided that the best way to solve this was a bit of light manipulation and well applied BDSM. He was wrong. 

Upon entering the house Hannibal took Will’s coat and kissed his forehead. Will relaxed momentarily. Big mistake.

“Go and light a fire in the sitting room. Then remove your clothes and law across my armchair. I will begin dinner and then come and help you relax.”

Will’s muscles began to obey, but then every nagging doubt he’d had in the last few weeks, plus his low self esteem, plus the anxiety about leaving his dogs, plus the fact that Hannibal could take kindness and warp it into an act of prickdom, or the other way around, crystallised into a firm shove and a “fuck you.”

Hannibal froze, still holding the coat.

“Will -”

“No don’t Will me. You can’t just do that Hannibal. So what, does the fact that you look after me and pay for everything mean that you can just tell me what to do?”

“Will, I -”

“Don’t interrupt me. I am not a possession Hannibal. If you want to really spoil me, come and live at my house for two weeks so I don’t have to leave my dogs all the time. ALL THE TIME. I promise you won’t be cold. But you can’t just tell me what to wear, take me away wherever and whenever you want, and then tell me when to strip off for you when that stresses me out. Your control isn’t my control. I need a break.”

“From what?” Hannibal’s face was like marble. If Will weren’t as emotional as he was, he would have realised that the other man was terrified.

“From you. This is too much. I’ve stopped being myself. You can’t do that, you can’t have that, I’m sorry.”

“Will, please -”

Hannibal could only watch as Will took his coat back, and stepped out into the night. 

“I’ll drive you.” He called after the disappearing man.

“I’ll take a cab.”

………………………...

The taxi dropped him back at the house, causing the dogs to go mad with joy. It was on the way to being dark, but Will was floating on the electric storm cloud of righteous anger. He strode out into the field, dogs streaming behind him, feeling the rage bubble in his sternum. The cold didn’t matter, pure energy sparking from his fingertips; if a brown bear walked out in front of him right now he could drop it with one punch, carry it home himself AND dress and hang the bastard. 

There were three missed calls and a text from Hannibal waiting on his phone when he got in. “This should be good,” said Will to his canine audience, who were eager for food rather than to hear the contents of Hannibal’s grovelling text message, but they’d get what they were given. “Let’s see then…” 

Will, I am truly sorry. I just want to look after you, and I have done everything wrong. Please speak to me. I love you. 

Will melted, briefly, before he forced himself to freeze again. “Oh no no,” he gesticulated at the waiting dogs. “He can’t just say something disarming and drop an L-bomb and expect me to crawl right back.” He left the text on read - take that, sadist - and went to prepare food for the pack. 

“I mean the first time I met him I got assaulted with a carrot,” he yelled into the air as he set down the bowls. The dogs’ eyes flicked between the bowls and their master, waiting for the signal. 

“Because I robbed him, granted, but a carrot! And since then it’s been all daddy this, bail me out of jail that, dump a dead body, constant praise, presents, showing me off at parties, whisking me away on holidays…….ah fuck.” He paused for a moment, staring into space. Fuck it, thought Winston, who could read a room; he tucked into his food anyway, which the others took as permission. 

Will sat and stared into space, the whirrings of his brain audible to the human ear. The energising ball of anger he had been carrying all afternoon flickered and went out. Potentially he had been a colossal prick. Hannibal was, after all, looking after him. And did obviously worship the ground Will walked on. And was ludicrously good looking with an enormous cock. And did cook all the time and take Will out and buy him stu-

“NO!” Shouted Will, scattering the dogs. “All that stuff happens on his schedule, when he wants, how he wants. Fuck this. I am not a doll.” He said pointedly to Buster, who wagged his tail enthusiastically at the announcement. Will poured himself a glass of whisky, hearing Hannibal tut at the fact that he was skipping dinner. 

“Shut up.” He said in response. Perhaps he did need a holiday. Perhaps some time away would be good. Just not with Hannibal. Alone.

He picked up his phone and toyed with the idea of texting Hannibal. Instead he messaged his friend and one time accomplice, Craig.

Craig had at one time thought that he was cut out for a life of crime. Will and he had met when he’d tried to fence Will some stolen goods, which Will didn’t mind because he was in the stolen goods business, but Craig did lie about the quality of the diamonds. What started as a row turned into Craig admitting that he was a shitty thief and a worse liar, and so started an unlikely friendship. Craig went legit and now ran a dog boarding business, which Will benefitted from occasionally. 

An hour and a half later, Craig plonked himself down in Will’s kitchen and opened up a beer. He listened, sometimes open mouthed, as Will told him the story, (of course, leaving out the parts that contained murder. And cannibalism. And of course that whole thing about their first time being completely non-consensual.) 

“Right.” Was all he could say when the story was over. Will laughed and nodded.

“So,” said Craig, opening another can. “He sounds full on, to be honest. But the question is, are you ready to not be with him.”

“No.” Will surprised himself by how quickly he answered. 

“Wow ok. You’re definite about that. So what’s the sticking point then?”

“He treats me like an object.”

Craig shook his head. 

“No he doesn’t. That’s nonsense Will. He treats you in a way that makes you feel objectified though, and that’s what freaks you out.”

“Ok, if you want to split hairs. Yes. Yes I have a problem with that.”

“Next annoying question,” says Craig. “Do you have a problem with it, or do you have a problem with the fact that actually you could not have a problem with it.”

Will let out a bitter chuckle, tossing his head away. "Oh, fuck you," he murmured. The words sounded much more harsh in his head than they did actually coming out of his mouth. 

“If you like,” Craig quipped back, and Will was struck by how Hannibal-like he sounded, just for a moment. Perhaps Craig had caught the wild look Will was giving him from the corner of his eye, because his look quickly softened, the earnestness returning in his smile as he reached over to graze his fingers across Will's hand. Will's eyes fluttered.  
“You don’t have to answer me now," Craig promised gently. "You don’t have to answer me at all." He leaned back and finished off his current glass, seemingly satisfied that his message had gotten through. "Tell you what. Go and see your Mexico house, I’ll look after the dogs, we’ll talk about it more when you get back. And my offer is still there, Will. If you want."

Will's brain was busy slogging its way through the fog the alcohol had made to catch up with Craig's meaning. His heartstrings were still buzzing, altogether raw from being plucked and pulled too precipitously. "Offer?," he repeated.

With a sigh of exasperation--or was that impatience?---Craig clarified. "Tell you the truth I always thought you and I would make a really great couple.." Suddenly his hand was back again, this time toying with the ends of Will's hair, gently tugging and caressing until Will was practically purring into the touch. "And any time you're ready, if you decide…. I would happily not objectify the shit out of you until the end of time. “

Will smiled, flattered and embarrassed. He wasn’t attracted to Craig, not really, not in a deep way. But he was full of whiskey, and sad and hurt and worried, and it was so easy to let himself move closer and touch someone who wasn’t terrifying and mercurial all the time. Craig's lips were soft and warm and affectionate, with no promise of pain or manipulation. Will moaned into him, gladly opening his mouth to accept Craig further in, chasing the taste of the burning spices mixed with their own natural musk. 

Before he could think better of it, Will was tugging Craig up from his seat and leading him down the hallway, through a sea of wagging tails. Craig reluctantly broke away at the threshold of the bedroom, shaking his head softly and half-heartedly prying Will's lips from his neck. "No, wait," he rasped.

Will pouted up at him.

"Isn't this a little too…" 

Whatever Craig was about to say was chased off by a shuddering gasp when Will cupped the growing bulge in his pants. It took a moment longer than Will thought it should have for the guy to respond. If it had been Hannibal, Will's ass would have been stinging from a harsh slap for daring to be so forward and he'd be tossed face-down on that bed so fast his head would spin. He grew even more outraged at the fact that he'd been anticipating it, (wanting it?). So far it would seem Hannibal's promises had all rang true. Will was acting like a well trained dog, with his very instincts bearing Hannibal's mark.

At least when Craig finally made his move, it was in the direction Will was hoping for. He couldn't deny the slower kind of pace felt good. Craig's big, soft hands buried into his thick locks as he angled them both towards the bed. He was heavier than Hannibal, too, stealing Will's breath with slow deliberateness as he lowered himself on top and slid his hardness between Will's spread thighs. 

Will told himself it was the whiskey that made him struggle to get hard, and have to work to come. Craig on the other hand was reaching his third climax before offering any assistance, burying his hand between Will's legs while jackhammering his insides to the point where he practically tore the orgasm right from him. 

Afterwards Craig ran gentle hands through his hair, and caught him up on all the goings on at the kennel. Craig was the only person Will knew who owned more dogs than he did--twice as many, in fact, not including the twenty or so others he routinely cared for. He had a really good heart, another reason Will was grateful he'd decided to quit the thieving business. He was far too noble for that line of work anyway. 

Sleep came easy, wrapped up in the warmth of Craig's big arms. Sometime during the night, the inner walls of Will's house transformed into Hannibal's bedroom. The lathe crumbled and the oak beams snapped and groaned as they twisted to become two great horns looming above the bed, the dampened sheets billowed and turned like an uneasy ocean until they became silken blue sheets. Craig's arms were now Hannibal's, and yet they weren't, the familiar creamy white skin ending at each finger where bone-colored talons began, digging into Will's flesh and pulling him down, down, deep into the covers until they were far over his head and he could no longer breathe. 

Will jerked upright with a silent scream, his lungs burning for air. He was back in his bedroom, now, wound up in his own bed sheets like he'd been wrestling with an angel all night. Three concerned sets of eyes stared at him from the foot of the bed as a delectable smell curled its way into his nostrils. Breakfast. 

After raking his hands through his hair and splashing some cold water onto his face, he hiked on a pair of sweatpants. No use in bothering with a shirt--Will was covered in a cold sweat and it was nothing Craig hadn't seen now anyways. The dogs seemed a little extra excited as Will padded off after them, still rubbing the remnants of uneasy sleep out of his eyes. 

What first registered as a low hum became the sound of friendly conversation as the hallway poured out into the kitchen. Over the noise of sizzling bacon, two very distinct voices echoed off the walls. 

Will froze.

No. Fuck. NO! 

Craig chattered away happily as he poured the coffee, blissfully unaware of the terrifying gleam in the visitor's mercurial eyes. Seated across from him with hair too perfect and a grin too wide, the uninvited guest listened along. "...and so I said to him, 'Will, you might as well try fishing with some yarn and a hot dog for all the good that old rod is going to do ya.' " Craig turned to smile as Will staggered in, hugging the wall closely for support. "Well, speak of the devil. Morning, Will." 

Will tried his damnedest to smile back, to feign normalcy, to act like his brain was not screaming at him, RUN! RUN! FOR ALL THAT IS HOLY DON'T JUST STAND THERE LIKE AN IDIOT! RUN!!!! 

"I was just gonna surprise you with breakfast, then your friend here showed up---Dr. Lecter is it?--and I thought, well why not set another plate?" 

Those mercurial eyes locked onto his like an industrial strength magnet and that impossibly wide grin got even wider. "Good morning, Will," Hannibal chirped pleasantly. 

RUN-----!

Okay. Okay no, let's think about this, Will attempted to reason. Hannibal had said it himself. He was not magic, just observant. Hannibal didn't know anything had happened last night. (In fact, Will barely remembered himself.) What did it matter that Will only had a pair of sweats on and that Craig was in his boxers------

His brain slammed on the brakes and threw itself in reverse. Sure enough, Craig was donned in boxers only, barefoot and prancing around the kitchen without a care. He noticed, then he noticed Hannibal noticing him noticing. Hannibal gleamed. Will went red. 

Circumstances being what they were, Will was less than surprised when his hindbrain tapped on the plexiglass and asked ,So...why aren't we running?

"Fuck off, dammit," Will growled. 

Craig blinked. "What?"

Will shook his head. "No, not you. Sorry. " He slid down into the seat beside Hannibal with a defeated huff. Maybe he really was a sadist, or maybe he saw the futility in trying to make a break for it, or maybe he felt just a teeny, tiny speck of guilt, but Will felt the best course of action was going to be to face this burning shitpile head on. 

As if to console him, Harley ooched his big head underneath Will's hand and licked it lovingly. Maybe he was trying to tell Will that everything was going to be alright. Maybe he was just waiting for bacon. Will wiped the slobber off on his pantleg and drained his first cup of coffee in one go. 

Will absolutely could not get Craig out the door fast enough. The lanky man took his time picking up strips of his clothing from the night before while Will desperately tried to keep Hannibal preoccupied while simultaneously talking to him as little as humanly possible. He didn't need a hint--Hannibal busied himself with the dishes while Will let the dogs out and allowed himself a few deep breaths of fresh, ice-cold air. 

Craig would not have been so content to stick around had he known what atrocities the man in the tan suit was capable of committing. When he finally collected himself and waved from his truck as he disappeared down the snowy trail, Will couldn't help but feel a sudden urge to go with him. 

"You didn't kill him," he uttered finally, unable to tear his eyes from the tracks in the snow. 

From mere inches behind him, Hannibal chuckled softly. "Would you like me to remedy that?" 

"No," Will rasped. "God no." Will's obvious bias notwithstanding, Craig was one of the sweetest most genuine people Will has ever known. Doing away with him would be doing all mankind a disservice. 

Much to Will's surprise, Hannibal was calm long after Craig left. In fact, they didn't even discuss the proverbial elephant in the room right away. After some small talk that only served to make Will even more uneasy, at last he broke down and asked, "Why did you come here?"

"You didn't answer your phone," Hannibal replied plainly. Before Will could say anything he added, "And now that I know you are well, I shall take my leave."

Will looked on in stunned silence as Hannibal calmly gathered his jacket, gave him a reassuring if secretive smile, and stepped out. 

"Wait," Will piped up before he could stop himself, reaching out and snagging the hem of his jacket. Hannibal turned slowly, one eyebrow arched upwards. It was as if he'd forgotten to put his mask back on beforehand, because his eyes showed plainly the agony of a jilted lover. Will swallowed hard. "Th...that's all? That's really all you wanted?" 

The hardness in Hannibal's expression returned, belying his accepting smile. "That's all," he repeated. "Goodbye, Will." 

Will's heart sank down into his feet as he watched Hannibal leave, his vision suddenly wet and blurry. "Hey," he called after him, resisting the urge to follow after him. "Does this mean you're not going to eat me?" 

Will's only answer was the Bentley door swinging closed and the rumble of the engine as it disappeared down the driveway. 

  
*****

Will should have been able to breathe easier after that. He should have felt a thousand times lighter, as if the noose had been removed from around his neck. He tried to be happy, or at least relieved, to be free to return to his old life ( or as Craig had suggested, make something new of it). Instead, he was frozen in those same feelings of helplessness and abandonment, which were chased off only occasionally by a gnawing guilt that would churn his stomach. 

He was in a different cage this time, one of his own making. He'd gotten to the point where he longed to feel Hannibal's creeping hold, those ever-watching eyes seeping into every crack and crevasse. He was in limbo without it, as if he'd forgotten what life was like without it...without him. 

It wasn't even two full days later when Will decided to take a drive. He'd promised himself it was only to get some gas and clear his head, but before his brain could correct its course he found himself driving up into the cobblestone driveway of Hannibal's ostentatious mansion. Will shut the engine off with a shaky hand and glanced at the bottle in the seat beside him. At some point in his journey, he'd made an extra stop. How does one apologize to their classy, cannibal boyfriend? Flowers would be gauche, but perhaps a bottle of 40-year-old Tawney would do the trick. 

The sky was slipping into her evening gown; a thin necklace of gold lay strewn across the horizon. The sheer size of the house took on a daunting appearance at night, and Will swallowed sharply as he rapped the ancient knocker against the solid wood door. 

Almost immediately he heard footsteps rushing to open it, and Will smoothed a hand through his messy mop of hair as it swung open. On the other side, Hannibal smiled gently. "Hello."

Will's gaze fluttered downward, not yet able to face the man eye-to-eye. He held out the wine bottle--it quivered ever so slightly in his hand. He licked his lips and offered a whispery "H-hi."

Hannibal absolutely did *not* seem like the kind of guy who would just let shit go. The possibility hadn't escaped Will that if---IF--Hannibal accepted him back, it may be under ceratin conditions or perhaps even more deranged sexual acts. Will was ready to face all that. So long as the man never left him alone ever again. 

Hannibal took the wine bottle and curled a supportive arm around Will's waist, ushering him inside. 

Will had been ready to be slammed against the wall and kissed silly, or maybe back handed, but when Hannibal calmly strode into his study and offered to share the bottle, Will's heart broke just a little more. 

After all, he was not one of Hannibal's associates, he was Hannibal's motherfucking LOVER and what didn't he get about that? If he wasn't here to get passionately assaulted whilst he spouted his apologies what exactly was Will doing there? At a loss for answers, Will simply nodded and followed him into the room like a kicked puppy. 

"You took some time to consider things," Hannibal said over his shoulder as he opened the bottle. 

Will kept his eyes on Hannibal's back, swearing to himself that if this was the last time he was ever graced with Hannibal's presence, he was going to soak in every detail, every line, the sway of his back and the flutter of muscle beneath his thin dress shirt. "Y-yes. Hannibal, I---" 

A glass was pushed into his open palm, stifling his words. 

"As have I," Hannibal said. He took a sip and took a seat next to Will. Now, with Hannibal staring out at the middle distance, Will could better study the unreadable expression on Hannibal's face. He sucked in a breath and waited for him to continue. "And I, too, have reached the conclusion that life is, quite simply, not worth living without you."

Will blew out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding in, a relieved, grateful smile pulling at his mouth. "Really?" There was no point trying to deny the expression that Hannibal had so clearly read on Will's face. "I-I mean I don't completely understand it either. But...Hannibal." He turned in the chair, careful to make full eye contact with him. "You don't hate me?"

Hannibal's eyebrows quirked. "Goodness, no, my darling Will." They both smiled at that, Hannibal reaching over to reassuringly pat Will's face as if he were a child. "Now then. There is much to discuss. But first, drink up. Tawney loses its taste at room temperature."

Will obeyed, swallowing down the first few gulps with exuberance. Hannibal laughed softly--"Not so quickly, now."---and Will chuckled in return. He was back where he belonged. Will was home. 

Through the fuzz the wine was making of his mind, he relived his feelings in detail, making it part of his confession and apologizing over and over again, not just for the "Craig" thing, but for everything. Will had been an ass. He had wanted to claim moral superiority simply because he didn't eat people, but now it seemed more obvious than ever that he was the one with questionable motives. He had been selfish and distant. He had broken Hannibal's heart. 

"And another thing," he piped up suddenly, nearly losing his balance as he leaned over to touch Hannibal's arm. "I do, too!"

Hannibal flashed him a "What-the-fuck" squint.

"LOVE YOU, I mean," Will corrected. "I...Hannibal, I...I love you too." He shook his head as if to clear it and tried to recall a time when one glass of wine had ever knocked him over the way this one had. Must be he got a good brand, he congratulated himself. 

Tears rolled down as his confession spilled out, no matter that he probably looked like a blubbering idiot. He hit his knees in front of Hannibal, and was held up suddenly by his lover's strong arms. Hannibal chuckled, trying his best to shush him. "Darling, you're going to spill that." Hannibal plucked the glass from Will's hand and set it on the book shelf. It was mostly gone anyways, Will thought, before letting out a happy hum and settling in between Hannibal's knees. 

With Hannibal reaching over him like that it was easy to sweep himself into his arms and press his lips to Hannibal's in a passionate, if poorly-aimed kiss. 

"I know, my love," Hannibal cooed from somewhere above him, petting his head with soothing pressure. It must have gotten completely dark outside, because Will could no longer see Hannibal or the room, or make out where he was in it. All the shapes and colors were bleeding into each other in a haze. Will was dizzy, and then…. "No need to concern yourself any longer," Hannibal's voice echoed in the darkness. "All is forgiven." 

"Hanni--?" Will tumbled down, down, in a dazed spiral, a pair of long, beige-clad legs towering over him as the room spun. Will reached for Hannibal, but only found air. A single tear splashed against the spotless carpet as the whole world went black. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will stiffened suddenly, eyes flying open, jerking upright as far as he could before flopping back to the gurney again. "Hannibal?" He screeched. "What...where am I? What's...what happened?"
> 
> "Perfectly acceptable questions with interesting answers, I assure you. But for now, we have another topic to discuss."

Admonition:

If you dissect a bird   
To diagram the tongue  
You'll cut the chord   
Articulating song.

If you flay a beast   
To marvel at the mane   
You'll wreck the rest  
From which fur began 

If you pluck out the heart  
To find what makes it move,   
You'll halt the clock  
That syncopates our love. 

\---Sylvia Plath

During the two days that Will was officially out of his life, Hannibal had taken a break of his own. Of course, there was no telling the length of Will's absence or if indeed he would ever return. Had anyone asked Hannibal, which they didn’t, which way this would go he would have said that it was only a matter of time before Will came back to him. The reality was starkly different; the rejection clawed at him with invisible talons, leaving behind a deep and heavy pain in his sternum which threatened to render him incapable of movement. He felt like Atlas holding up the earth, every word and facial expression weighted with lead. 

He caught up on some of the more mundane points of business, scheduled some exhibits, ordered a new vending machine, comme si comme ça. 

Once again, he thought of killing Will Graham. If Hannibal chose murder, it would have been the coward's way out. And he wasn't entirely certain he could live with himself after the fact, even if he managed to consume Will, down to the very last morsel. He was destined to feel this empty---with or without Will. Nothing could soothe the ache. 

He wanted Will back, and he wanted Will to pay. He wanted answers, wanted to know why - what did the ginger haired fuck have that Hannibal didn’t? He had a horrible feeling that he knew the answer. He wanted to kill Will. He wanted Will to kill Craig. He wanted him and Will to kill Craig. If only a mechanism existed that allowed one to kill someone more than once...

Even so, Will must pay. Not out of sheer vengeance, Hannibal reasoned--- (of course not, no. Why would he want to inflict the same level of torment on Will that Hannibal himself was experiencing?)--but to instill in him an important lesson. Freedom to do as one pleases is not without consequence, and one must assume responsibility for one's actions. On the second evening, whilst cataloguing Celtic Torcs, an idea fluttered across his frontal cortex. He had set Will free, and Will had come back. Hannibal had been a benevolent god - the same grace didn’t need to be extended a second time. 

That is when he remembered the emeralds. 

One of the first phone calls he made was to an associate who dealt in custom jewels. Hannibal needed four flawless gems, to be set on either side of two thin rose-gold posts, so that they would take the shape of a dumbell. The posts would need to have a rather intricate locking system, one that only the owner would know how to properly operate. Money was no object of course. It took just one day for his associate to deliver, for which Hannibal paid handsomely. The result was simple, elegant, and functional. Perfection by design. 

Hannibal admired them under the bright white light, lost in the depth of the color and the way each facet picked up the reflection of his face and flashed back at him. So modestly sized yet so intricate. Not unlike the man who would soon be wearing them. 

Back in the present, a soft moan came from the corner of the lab, the chocolate-haired dreamer stirring from his near comatose slumber. Will was perfect like this: strapped down to the examining table, legs spread wide, exposing every gorgeous inch of his milky white skin.

Hannibal pushed away from the instrument table and rolled himself over to the waking beauty, placing a hand on Will's hip and marvelling at how warm he was, even stripped bare. He spread his fingers over his ebbing belly, felt Will's abdominal muscles clench and tighten as he stirred, his incoherent sounds growing louder. 

At last he made an attempt to say Hannibal's name, his limbs straining against the thick leather straps. 

"Yes, my love," Hannibal cooed. "I'm here."

Will stiffened suddenly, eyes flying open, jerking upright as far as he could before flopping back to the gurney again. "Hannibal?" He screeched. "What...where am I? What's...what happened?"

"Perfectly acceptable questions with interesting answers, I assure you. But for now, we have another topic to discuss."  
Hannibal got hard just watching Will's eyes widen with the realization of his predicament. Sweeter still was the keening whimper of despair as all of his strength was sapped from him, Will's eyes welling with pleading tears, his chest heaving in time with his soft sobs. 

"I'm sorry, Hannibal. I'm so, so sorry."

Hannibal turned to his instruments, plucking up a cold steel clamp and examining it in the light. "Are you now?

"Please...please, we can talk about this."

"Of course.” He said, making an open armed gesture and assuming a mild expression, as if they were negotiating plans for a Saturday night. In a way they were. 

Wills desperation was the most beautiful symphony ever to grace Hannibal's ears. His excuses were pathetic at best, a fact Will himself very well knew.

“I freaked out. I freaked out because I’ve never experienced anything like what we had. What we have. I thought you were taking my independence away.”

“I see. And did I, at any point, remove your independence, Will?” Hannibal asked mildly.

“No of cour-“

Will stopped only as Hannibal secured the clamp around the left nipple, a pained cry peeling from his chest. His struggling started up again, his naked ass comically streaking against the cold metal. "St-stop! Goddamn it, Hannibal! I get the point! I'm...I'm scared, okay? Just please stop---" 

Hannibal moaned around Will's useless words, his eyes fluttering closed. "Will, please. I gave you everything I know how to give. I let you know the truth of me, as a whole. I placed in you a trust that I haven’t given away in an entire lifetime, and yet…” Hannibal paused, refusing to let his voice crack. He’d be damned if he was going to lose control now. 

“And yet,” he said, calmer now. “Soon enough, I found you in the arms of another man. And you did nothing to comfort me. Nothing to protest what you had done, to protect our love.” It was no good, the tears spilled over anyway. Will watched them fall over those impossible cheekbones, and felt his soul freeze. There was only one monster in the basement, and it was him. 

"Th-then why am I here?” Will squeaked. If he was going to die he at least wanted Hannibal to be honest about it. 

"Because I can’t let you go." Hannibal replied matter-of-factly, pulling himself together with miraculous efficiency. "Because I am remedying the situation. You have been very naughty, Will. Forgiveness does not imply trust, and you have proven both to me and to yourself that you lack certain inhibitions."

Will was screaming by the time Hannibal produced the needle. Hannibal rolled his eyes. Really, he could be such a dramatic little queen. "It will only hurt if you struggle," he warned. He lined the needle up to the outer edge of Will's areola, the skin already dimpled and red from the immense pressure of the clamp. On the other end was the rose-gold bar with one sparkling gem. 

"Breathe," he said, and forced the needle in. 

Will's body lurched forward, his head thrown back against the gurney in a silent scream. Hannibal was certain he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. He slid the bar into the freshly opened wound until it came through on the other side. It took some work properly securing the end piece with the other emerald on it. It worked like a microscopic combination lock, securing in place with only the correct number of perfectly executed twists and turns. At last the piercing was finished, and as Hannibal released Will's poor, abused nipple from the clamp a bright red pearl of blood rolled down. 

Despite Will's desperate begging, Hannibal repeated the motion on Will's right side, and when the task was complete he wiped the instruments clean with a sterile solution and snapped off both gloves. Will sank back in the table, his tired eyes shining with the remnants of a rage he had no right to feel. 

"You came back to me," Hannibal explained without being asked. "You belong with me, Will. I had hoped that you would realise this by yourself, but…” Hannibal had made his choice. He could be happy with Will or miserable without him, so it was a clear choice really. How Will felt about it was largely irrelevant.

"Since when did I agree to this?!" Will spat indignantly, nodding his chin down at the glistening gems protruding from his flesh. 

Hannibal smiled sweetly. "What does agreement have to do with it? Do you not like them? They bring out the gold flecks in your eyes." He ignored the venomous "Fuck you!" and retrieved the last of the gifts he had procured for his unscrupulous lover. Oh very well. This one was very much Hannibal's little "gift" to himself. A matching gold cock cage ( which Hannibal congratulated himself on getting just right for Will's size), complete with a ring that went around behind his balls and secured tightly with a small padlock. 

"I'm gonna kill you," Will rasped. 

Hannibal chuckled, one eyebrow raised. "A very bold statement indeed, from where you're sitting."

Will was as uncooperative as someone fastened down to a steel table could be. Hannibal lifted the head of his limp member, pushing it through the hilt of the cage until it swallowed him whole. Will had complained when Hannibal sent him to a spa a few weeks back for a full Brazilian waxing, but the result had been nothing short of breathtaking. Hannibal finished by pushing first one smooth testicle, and then the other through the golden ring as Will rattled the buckles on his leather binds. With the "click" of a tiny gold padlock, Will was effectively sealed inside his little prison for as long as Hannibal deemed it so.

It could stay on forever as far as Hannibal was concerned. 

He reassured Will that he would still be able to relieve himself and that Hannibal was more than capable of bringing Will to orgasm as many times as he pleased, a fact he was inclined to prove when Will attempted to spit in his face. He dodged to the side with a small smile, and began running his hands up Will’s ribcage and over his stomach muscles. The skin was warm, familiar. Will was still cussing him out as he kneaded the flesh of his arse, pressing light kisses to his neck. He blew air over the recently pierced nippes, revelling in the hypersensitivity. Will held his breath, refusing to beg. ⁰

Hannibal turned his attention lower, towards the cock cage. He eased his tongue past the metal, gently teasing Will’s balls, drawing a string of curses from his mouth and making him writhe in torturous ecstasy. Will’s cock didn’t have room to fill but he was still sensitive - Hannibal transferred his attention to the head, feeling the organ twitch and try, hearing the “no no no please god no” falling from Will’s lips. Will in captivity was not his first choice, but it wasn’t a bad second.

Hannibal stood for a moment and looked into Will’s eyes. He saw desire and anger in equal measure. He wasn’t an empath, but he understood Will’s predicament. He hoped it hurt him. 

He made a show of taking off his clothes, standing close to Will’s head as he stroked his cock slowly, drawing a bead of pre-come from his slit. He offered it to Will to taste; a pink tongue darted out, drawing his finger into Will’s mouth before Will bit him. Hard. 

Hannibal wrenched his hand back. There was no hesitation before he slapped Will hard across the face - the other man grunted at the blow before he laughed and snapped his jaws at Hannibal again. Hannibal’s hand at his throat shut him up.

Hannibal was past the point of feeling the need to hold back for the rude little whelp; he lined himself up as he choked the life out of him, pushing inside mercilessly. Will was tight and dry and terribly uncooperative, all factors that made Hannibal want him even more. It hurt Hannibal to do it. He didn’t care. 

He bit into Will's shoulder, grabbing the table above his head to thrust mercilessly inside. Will's sobs were uncontrollable and angry and pathetic and just about the hottest thing to Hannibal's hungry ears. It got easier, as sweat and pre-come paved the way - Will persisted in trying to bite Hannibal, getting close a couple of times. Hannibal pushed his knees back, changing the angle and Will’s eyes rolled back in his head. He screamed through his orgasm, as angry at his own body as he was with Hannibal. 

Hannibal himself didn't last long, but he'd taken certain steps to ensure he would remain hard for the duration. (Ah, the modern miracles of pills). Will came until he was so wet beneath Hannibal that they were just sliding around together, heated and sore, pupils blown wide from ecstasy. As Will started to come down Hannibal started thrusting again, driving Will insane with oversensitivity - Will tugged against his restraints, unsure if he wanted to wrap his arms around Hannibal or break his jaw. Hannibal rolled his hips the way he knew Will liked and just like that, Will was gone, his caged soft cock leaking a stream of cum. 

“Fuck yes.” Will moaned into Hannibal’s neck. He should have learned by now. 

Hannibal took that as encouragement. His own cock was painful now but this wasn’t about sex, this was ownership. He started to move again,in small circles with his hips. Will made a desperate noise and Hannibal understood what he wanted, snaking a hand between them to remove the cock cage. Will hardened immediately, the feeling of his length delicious between their two bodies; Hannibal picked up the pace, ignoring the ache in his cock as he drove Will towards his third orgasm. Will braced against his restraints, almost lifting Hannibal as he screamed his release. Hannibal stopped moving as he felt Will melt underneath him - he didn’t fancy his chances of coming again anyway; it turned out chemical erections were mainly uncomfortable. 

They breathed together for a minute. Hannibal felt himself start to soften and raised a silent prayer of thanks. 

“Untie me.” Said Will. 

“Absolutely not.” Hannibal huffed quietly. He felt quietly sick, and found himself wishing the situation was other than it was. 

“Un-fucking-tie me.” Will said. Hannibal was still lying on top of him. To hell with it, why not. He reached round and released the restraints. Will immediately wrapped his arms around Hannibal and squeezed him tightly before running a hand up and down his side. Hannibal suddenly couldn’t breathe. 

“I couldn’t come,” he whispered against Hannibal’s ear. 

“I beg to differ.”

“For Craig. I couldn’t come.” A lesser man would have been pacified.

“That didn’t stop you from trying.” Hannibal tried to stand up but Will was like a limpet.

“Don’t you dare try and go anywhere you sadistic fuck’” Will gritted out. Hannibal gave up and slumped over him again. “I love you.” Will kissed up his jaw. 

“I wish you did.”

“Bitch you kidnapped me, pierced my nipples and then raped me-“

“You begged me by the end.”

“The first one was rape. That’s not the point. I’m sorry. I will always be sorry. I should have communicated how I felt instead of running away. And I might point out that you should have called me and communicated how you felt instead of-"

“If I kiss you will you bite me?”

“50/50.”

Hannibal kissed him anyway.

******

An hour later they were upstairs. Hannibal was still moving somewhat stiffly, and Will was laughing at him in between applying an ice pack to his nipples. Hannibal filled the free-standing bath with steaming water for Will, adding perfumed rose petals as a finishing touch. Will had called him a fucking wanker and thrown them at him individually until Hannibal picked Will up and deposited him in the tub. Will made a huge fuss when the hot water hit his new piercings, and made Hannibal go and get the ice pack.

“Unlike you to accept help from a ‘fucking wanker’,” Hannibal deadpanned. Will laughed so hard that water hit the floor. 

“Say that again.”

“No.”

“Please. I’ll do anything. I won’t bring up the fact that you’re a rapist ever again.”

“William,” Hannibal looked at him, pained. 

“What? Not like you to shy away from something once you’ve done it. You were full of excuses in the basement.”

Hannibal looked at the floor. He still felt appalling, mentally swearing off viagra for the rest of his life. 

“For the second time I regret the way I’ve treated you.” He said, very slowly. 

“Do you really?”

“Yes.”

“I regret being a cheating prick.” Will said plainly. “What I did was cowardly and shitty and I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I don’t know what I can do to make you believe that you’re the person I want to spend forever with, although thinking about it I’m still here with you after you drugged, pierced and sexually assaulted me so…”

“I don’t think I’ve reacted to the tablets very well.” Hannibal said, sounding uncharacteristically pathetic.

“You feel rough baby?”

“Yes.”

“Serves you right. Come on. Actually wait, do you actively have to puke?”

Hannibal considered for a moment and then shook his head. Will got out of the tub and left the ice pack on the side, pulling a bathrobe around him. He took Hannibal’s hand and led the quiet and forlorn looking man out of the bathroom into the bedroom, pulling the covers back at the corner. 

“Get in,” he said quietly, watching Hannibal fold himself up under the covers and look up at him expecting. Will let the bathrobe fall to the floor and slid under the duvet - he pulled at Hannibal until the other man moved towards him, wrapping his arms around him as Hannibal rested his head on Will’s chest. Hannibal relaxed and seemed to breathe out for a long time.

“Bet you didn’t know you were holding on to that, huh?” Will whispered against Hannibal’s forehead, before kissing it gently. Hannibal shook his head minutely. 

“Keep breathing like that, you’ll feel better. And nausea is a common side effect of viagra so you shouldn’t feel bad. They just don’t put that in the adverts.” 

Hannibal took another deep breath and laughed faintly. Will ran his hands over his skin, enjoying the feeling of Hannibal in his arms. 

“I love you, Hannibal.”

All he got back was a snore. 

***********

Hannibal woke up two hours later, apparently much improved. Will hadn’t slept but must have zoned out because he only realised the time when Hannibal stirred and began pressing faint kisses to his jaw.

“Oh someone feels better,” he laughed. Hannibal didn’t answer but did start to roll on top of Will, who pushed him back with a firm hand.

“I don’t think so big guy, now that you’re not about the yak on me it’s revenge time.”

“And what will be your revenge?” Asked Hannibal, persisting in kissing Will’s neck, travelling up to nibble an ear lobe. 

“Lay on your front and I’ll show you.” 

Hannibal tensed momentarily, but he went, laying his head on his arms. Will draped himself over the other man’s back, kneading the muscles of his shoulders, feeling the power in his arms and back, the firmness of his waist. 

“You are fucking beautiful,” he breathed before moving lower, placing a hand on each butt cheek and massaging gently before pulling them apart. Hannibal made a small surprised noise the first time Will’s tongue touched his hole. Will was tentative at first, exploring with gentle touches of his tongue, but he soon grew bolder, licking wide stripes from Hannibal’s perineum up to the top of his crack. Hannibal’s breath came quicker and he lifted his hips so he could touch his cock.

“Nope,” said Will firmly. “Hands up by your head please.” Hannibal whined but did as he was told, and Will went back to his task with enthusiasm. He wrapped his lips around Hannibal’s hole, alternating sucking with firm presses of his tongue that threatened to penetrate the muscle. Hannibal was breathing rapidly now, every other exhale punctuated with Will’s name, writhing under his touch like he was on fire. Will increased the rhythm, making Hannibal moan like he was being wounded until the magical moment when he felt the body under him clench and go still.

Once Hannibal came down from his orgasm he rolled over and clutched Will to him, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. 

“You are incredible,” he said, accent thick. He flipped Will on to his back and reached over to the bedside cabinet to retrieve a bottle of lube. He slicked up two fingers and moved down Will’s body, taking his cock to the back of his throat in one movement.

“Jesus Christ, Hannibal.” Will shouted, arching up off the bed.

Hannibal held him deep in his throat, only pulling back as he began to push a long finger into Will. He tightened his lips around the head, pushing his tongue into Will’s slit at the same time as he crooked a finger, finding Will’s prostate, delighting in the long moan he drew from the other man. 

Adding a second finger, he started to move his mouth faster, tightening his lips around Will’s cock and sucking tightly. Will didn’t even manage to give him warning as he came deep in Hannibal’s throat with a hoarse cry, hands buried in his hair. 

They lay together afterwards in easy silence, Hannibal stroking Will’s face. 

“You’re gearing up to say something.” Will murmured without opening his eyes. Hannibal didn’t miss a beat.

“I think we should have Craig over for dinner,” he said brightly.

“What?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with us, we hope you enjoy.

The soaring emotional high of love and affection that Will had been coasting on collapsed into cold dread and suspicion so fast he felt dizzy. 

“Why would you want to do that, Hannibal?”

There was a minute movement of facial muscles which Will recognised as the equivalent of an eye roll, before Hannibal replied -

“I’m not going to hurt him, William.” He got out of bed and went into the en-suite, momentarily distracting Will with the glorious view of his naked arse. 

“Unless,” he added, sticking his head back through the doorway. “Unless you’d like me to hurt Craig?”

The imagine of Hannibal, naked under the murder onesie, and elbow deep in Craig’s torso, sprinted across Will’s imagination. Apparently his cock was into it. What the fuck is wrong with you, he asked himself. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Hannibal quipped, sounding pleased and disappearing back into the bathroom.

“NO!!” Shouted Will from where he was still laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling with an erection and, apparently, a new murder onesie fetish. “Absolutely no killing Craig, on pain of me never sticking my tongue in your arse ever again.”

There was no response from the bathroom.

“Hannibal Lecter did you hear what I said?” He shouted louder, hoping that his rim job skills had been enough to seal the deal. After another moment’s pause a muted ‘yes’ could be heard through the door, followed by a cabinet being shut somewhat stroppily.

Hannibal reappeared a few minutes later, smelling of toothpaste and still apparently narky about not being allowed to commit murder. He began to get dressed, and appeared to consider something for a moment before turning to Will and saying-

“Please?”

“What?”

“Please may I kill Craig?”

“Ok full marks for the element of surprise, I wasn’t expecting that. Absolutely not. The rimming ban will be enforced.”

“You enjoyed it too much.”

“Narcissist. Hannibal I’m struggling with a few things right now,” Will got out of bed himself and then realised his clothes were still in the dungeon. “May I have something to wear please?” Hannibal smirked, but handed Will a shirt and pair of slacks. Will tried not to analyse the fact that they were his size, despite having never seen them before.

“I’m struggling with the fact that you want to invite Craig over for dinner anyway after what happened - I mean if I were a possessive, jealous, narcissist I would want Craig as far away from me as possible - but anyway, even without that, which is weird enough, I have now had to have a conversation with you, which I’m not convinced I have won, about whether or not Craig makes it out alive. Can you appreciate why this makes me nervous?”

“What did you see when I suggested hurting Craig?” Hannibal countered easily.

Bastard didn’t miss a trick did he? 

“Never you mind.”

“I’ll promise not to hurt Craig if you tell me what you saw.”

It seemed too easy, but if Hannibal was anything, he was true to his word. Will sighed.

“You, naked, well you weren’t you had the plastic romper thing on, eviscerating Craig.” He said almost wearily. 

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Hannibal said lightly, and left the room, leaving Will to stare after him wondering what had happened. 

……………………………………………………

Will made a wager with himself that something awful would happen at dinner. Craig has seemed surprised to be invited, and Will had been more surprised when he accepted, but by the time Hannibal presented them with dessert, Will began to think that he might lose his own bet. Dinner had been spectacular, obviously; Hannibal could probably pour milk on cereal and make it taste like manna from heaven, but the evening itself had been...great. 

It turned out Craig knew a lot about history, and Will had the pleasant experience of listening to him and Hannibal babble on about this era, that style of pottery, etcetera. It was probably one of the least stressful experiences he’d had in Hannibal’s company since, well ever, and suddenly he could see a clearer picture of his future with this man. They could do this. He should learn more about history; Hannibal’s face lit up a certain way when he was talking about the museum’s collections, and Will wanted to see more of it. 

Just as he thought that he, and Craig, might get out of there without Hannibal happening to either of them, the man in question turned to Craig, and placed a hand on the side of his face. Will watched, seemingly in slow motion, as Craig momentarily froze before closing the gap between them and allowing Hannibal to place a tender kiss on his lips. 

What the fuck, said Will’s inner voice. Unfortunately Will’s actual face was still frozen, and so he could only watch as Hannibal deepened the kiss, running those gorgeous, bronze hands over Craig’s neck and shoulders. Craig was into it, he’d have to be mad not to be, Will thought idly, Hannibal was a phenomenal kisser; he watched Craig wrap his arms around Hannibal’s waist and move them even closer, sliding a knee between Hannibal’s legs. They broke apart for a moment and Craig looked around at Will.

“Well,” he smiled. “This isn’t what I was expecting, but I’m really glad I accepted the invite now.” He turned back to Hannibal, who looked Will straight in the eye as he began kissing Craig again, and it was in this moment that Will snapped. The dining room chairs must have been heavy but Will didn’t register the weight at all as he picked one up and brought it crashing down on Craig’s head. 

Hannibal smiled widely at Will, who threw the chair against the wall and turned his attention to kicking the shit out of Craig. He boot connected with the man’s stomach again and again, until the feeble body on the floor could only cough up a thin stream of blood. Out of the corner of his eye Will saw Hannibal get up and leave the room. He bent down and grabbed Craig’s hair and smashed his face into the floor again and again. He didn’t know how many times he did it, but there was one that had an air of finality about it. He let go of Craig’s head. It didn’t take a genius to work out that Craig was dead. Will stood up and turned around.

In front of him was Hannibal, wearing the murder suit and nothing else. Will got hard so fast it hurt.

“I fucking hate you.” He said.

Hannibal laughed, and looked fond. 

“Oh Will,” he said, reaching for him. “I really don’t think you do.”

Will would like to think that they came together sensuously, but the reality was that Will half leaped at Hannibal and dragged him to the floor, only narrowly managing not to knock him out on the dining table. They kissed frantically, with Will frequently breaking away so that he could look at the murder suit. He palmed Hannibal’s cock through the plastic, drawing a delightful moan from the other man. 

“I love this,” Will breathed against his mouth. “But it needs to come off now.”

“Thank god,” Hannibal deadpanned. “It’s actually frightfully uncomfortable to wear nude.”

“I can’t believe you had that on under your suit all night.” Will chuckled, helping Hannibal roll the plastic over his shoulders. Once he had him bare he wasted no time, pushing Hannibal onto his back and dropping down to nose at his groin. 

Hannibal’s huge cock twitched against his stomach as Will gently sucked one of his balls into his mouth, the foreskin already pulled back. As Will moved his attention to the other testicle a drop of pre-come dripped from the top - Will wrapped a hand around the shaft, feeling the silky foreskin against his palm, before kneeling over Hannibal and taking the head into his mouth. Hannibal made a stifled noise and threaded a hand through Will’s hair, holding him in place. Will stilled, sucking gently, but didn’t move. He looked up at Hannibal, giving silent permission for Hannibal to take what he wanted. 

Gently at first, holding Will’s head still, Hannibal began to thrust up into the tight heat of his mouth. It wasn’t too much to take at first and Will hummed with pleasure, teasing the head of Hannibal’s cock with his tongue whenever he drew back. Hannibal added his other hand to Will’s hair and began to thrust deeper, pulling Will down as he pushed in. His cock went deeper and Will gagged once - Hannibal paused but Will nodded at him to carry on, and he did, faster until he made it past Will’s gag reflex and his cock hit the back of Will’s throat. Hannibal moaned deeply, a beautiful rumbling noise that went straight to Will’s cock. He tightened his lips, anything to hear that noise again, and was disappointed when Hannibal stilled and pulled him off. He whined quietly, missing the stretch and taste of Hannibal’s cock.

“You’re so perfect,” Hannibal breathed, kissing him. His cock was steadily leaking pre-come, he must be so close-

“Let me,” Will said breathlessly, reaching for him.

“Shh, I want to make love to you.”

Gently, reverently, Hannibal undressed Will. Sliding off his shirt he kissed from the tip of Will’s ear down his neck, repeated sucking kisses that left Will electric with pleasure, writhing in Hannibal’s embrace. 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned as Hannibal slid his hands underneath his waistband, still kissing along the line of his shoulder. Hannibal ran his fingers along the top of Will’s thighs and over his buttocks, teasing but not quite touching his aching cock. Suddenly Hannibal stood up and Will cried out at the loss of him. There was a sound of breaking china and glassware before Hannibal was back - he picked Will up and laid him on the now bare table. Covering his hand in olive oil he found Will’s hole and massaged around the outside whilst gently, oh so slowly, stroking his cock from root to tip, twisting his wrist slightly at the head in a way that made Will writhe and cover his face with his hands.

“Fuck, Hannibal, please.” Will cried, trying to push back against Hannibal’s hand. He was rewarded with the slow agonising press of a long artistic finger, which breached him gradually and then stilled inside him. Hannibal waited for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Will clenching around him, desperate for any sensation, before adding another finger, scissoring them to stretch Will out. Will thrashed on the table, screaming for Hannibal to just fuck him already. 

Hannibal added another finger and finally allowed them to brush Will’s prostate, just once, enjoying the raw shout that came out of him, before taking his fingers out and slicking up his cock. He threaded his arms under Will’s knees and lifted him up slightly before pushing in in one smooth movement. They both groaned at the sensation; Hannibal started to fuck Will hard but slow, memorising each tortured cry that Will made every time Hannibal buried himself inside him. Will’s cries of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ dissolved into incoherent noises and Hannibal lost control, speeding up and driving himself into Will brutally hard, his own deep moans mixing with Will’s almost continual cries. By the time Will came, arching up off the table, eyes rolling back in his head, Hannibal’s rhythm was completely gone, and the sight of Will coming apart underneath him ripped his own orgasm from him; he threw his head back with a feral shout as he pulsed inside Will for what felt like an eternity. 

Will was still breathing hard when Hannibal came back to himself. He laid down on the table next to him, pulling Will against his chest. Will held onto him like a drowning man holds onto a life raft, and Hannibal gripped him back, just as tightly. 

“Will,” Hannibal said softly after a few minutes.

“Hmmm?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yeah.” Will said without a pause. 

“Hannibal?”

“Hmmm?”

“Will you clean up the body please?”

“Yes,” Hannibal laughed, pressing a kiss to his fiancée’s forehead. 

Then the table collapsed.


End file.
